The Stone of Carthus
by ChipMuncher
Summary: In the aftermath of the Great Thaw, Queen Elsa's rule has brought her kingdom peace and wealth. With Anna by her side and her people warming to her, Elsa hopes her life has taken a turn for the better. But war is brewing across the world, and when a mysterious foreigner appears to tell her the truth about her powers, she realizes that she must choose which side she is on.
1. Arrival

**Chapter 1: Arrival**

**Author's Note: This is a Frozen Fanfiction Sequel Series that is set about a month after the events of the movie, although there are multiple sections that are set in the past.  
**

**I'm taking a different approach to fanfiction compared to what I've seen in this community. There will be a major focus on original characters, but not to worry - you'll be seeing a lot of the movie's cast as well. **

**Feel free to stick around and share this experience with me. I'll be trying out a few different techniques, and I hope you guys like them. ****Please Review. All criticisms and comments are welcome.**

**Disclaimer****: **I do not own _Frozen, _any of its characters, settings, or songs.

* * *

_The North Seas - Present Day_

Of all the ways to travel, sailing was the most horrid. At least for Arthur. On the start of their journey, the captain told him he would adjust to the vessel's incessant rocking, but two weeks at sea had done nothing to mend Arthur's wild stomach.

He now clutched the railings of the _Valiant_, letting fly his breakfast of fried eggs and fish. His companion, Percy, stood a safe distance away from him, having been the victim of the latter's seasickness more than once.

"I hate sailing," Arthur muttered once he had finished.

"Don't have a choice," Percy smoothed his dark brown hair, "there's no other way to Arendelle."

"What's the point? We sail halfway across the North Seas, chasing rumors from our Frankish friend."

"Louis was certain that this place was the answer to your problem."

"You know he loves to tell tales."

Percy shrugged. "It's all we have. Would you rather we returned to Valhalla, then?"

"No," Arthur answer firmly. _I will not go back_, he thought to himself, _even if death threatened._

Hearing footsteps, he turned to see the master of the _Valiant_, Captain Bors, stride up to them.

Overweight and nearing retirement, Bors was far from the typical image of a military commander. But he had been the only one willing to take Arthur aboard.

"Master Arthur," the captain tipped his hat politely, "you have recovered from your nausea, I hope?"

Arthur had never been known as a negative person, but fourteen days with an upset belly had darkened his mood.

"I haven't," he said bitterly, "how many days do we have left 'til we arrive?"

The captain chuckled, making his belly jiggle softly. "That is why I have come to see you. It seems that my previous calculations have proven incorrect. We shall, in fact, be seeing the shores of Arendelle before the sun sets." Bors spread his arms out triumphantly. "My crew will be readying for our landing in a few hours. Soon you will be hearing the gulls of Arendelle heralding our arrival."

Arthur sighed with relief. "Thank you, Captain Bors."

Bors smiled. "No problem at all, Master Arthur."

He tipped his hat again. He greeted the other traveler. "Master Percy." Percy nodded in response. The two companions watched him without a word until he disappeared behind a door.

It was a while before either of them spoke again. Percy leaned against one of the _Valiant'_s masts. "So, we'll be landing sooner than we thought."

"You're sure you won't be able to come with me?"

"The last time I saw my mother, I was twelve. It's been ten years."

"I haven't seen mine since I was two."

"That's… different."

When they left for Arendelle, the two companions had discussed their journey. Percy had felt homesick, and wished to return to his hometown. They decided that he would accompany Arthur to Arendelle, then sail aboard the_ Valiant_ to a port South, where he could hire another ship to go home. But Arthur had disliked the notion of entering Arendelle's court by himself.

"We could finish our business here, and then visit your mother together," he suggested now, but it was a futile attempt.

"You could not return to Valhalla's borders unless in chains," Percy reminded him.

"I know."

"Arthur, this responsibility is yours. And this is your journey to take, alone," Percy cautioned. He had said these words before. And they were not without merit either. "Besides, there are other responsibilities I must attend to, if our plan is to work."

Arthur understood that it was not Percy's place to follow him. With the limited resources that they had, it was necessary that they separated. Yet, as he had said many times before, he wished that his friend would at least be there to accompany him. He ran a hand through his auburn hair and scratched his head softly.

"Well then, I'll, um, need to get packing. See you later."

* * *

_The Bay of Arendelle - Eight Hours Later_

When he departed from Valhalla, Arthur had taken with him only three things that he treasured. The first was a great ruby, almost the size of a closed fist, carved in the shape of a dragon - a gift from his father. On a chain about his neck hung the second object - a sapphire ring his mother wore as a symbol of her marriage to his father. He could not think of anything more precious, for she had died when he was two years old.

The last of his favored possessions was his horse - a mare the color of milk that Arthur had named Mara, after his mother.

She had been locked below-decks for the entire voyage. Arthur resented allowing this at first, but Mara had seemed undisturbed by her confinement. Bors assured him that she would be safe in the_ Valiant_'s holds.

The rest of his belongings were clothes, paper and pen.

With the _Valiant_ moving at a slower pace and in calmer waters, Arthur no longer felt seasick. He sat on a barrel of apples on the deck, enjoying the afternoon breeze.

They had entered the Bay of Arendelle a short while ago, and the Captain ordered for the crew to resupply once the Valiant was docked. Arthur gathered his belongings and asked for Mara to be sent above to be hauled ashore later. She trotted over to Arthur, who patted her neck.

_Hello_. She seemed to say as she nuzzled his hand.

Arthur grinned, "Sleep well?"

The young mare snorted derisively. _I always sleep well_. She had spent most of the journey napping, waking only when Arthur came to visit her or to eat. The horse clopped her hooves, as if testing the wooden floor of the ship.

_Nice to stretch my legs for a bit._

Arthur's smile widened. "You'll be on dry land soon. Right after they get you harnessed."

_Ugh. Not again._ The crew would fasten a series of belts and ropes around her, and using a series of pulleys, swing her onto land, where a team of workers would untie her.

Bors sauntered up Arthur and Mara, still wearing his captain's attire. He had recently pinned his various medals and accolades to his breast, in hopes that they would impress whoever was there to greet them at the docks. The captain tipped his hat to Arthur. "Master Arthur, I trust that you and your steed are ready to disembark?"

"We are. When will we be ashore?"

"In a few moments, not to worry," replied Bors. His attention was shifted to Mara, who had begun warming up her feet again. "Your horse. She is unlike any I have ever seen. Normally they retch or neigh with seasickness. Yet she seems as though she were standing on a field."

"Mara surprises me every day," Arthur said, "soon she will sprout wings and I won't even bat an eye."

The captain chortled with laughter. "Careful that she does not fly away then. That horse is a gem, if I ever saw one." He cleared his throat gruffly. "If you will excuse me, I must sort out the crew so we can anchor." He raised his hat once more and walked off.

* * *

_The Docks_

Arthur watched as the remaining crates of food were hauled onto the Valiant. Mara had been brought safely to land, and now rested by a hitching post feasting on fresh apples. Percy stood on the pier, playing with a small slingshot he had purchased from a store nearby.

When the last set of cargo had been loaded, Captain Bors sidled towards Arthur. "Well, Master Arthur, it has been a pleasure sailing with you. Even if I didn't get any pay."

Arthur grinned. "Thank you for your service, Captain. Your kindness shall not go unforgotten."

"It is but a portion of the debt I owed your father. Your belongings will be with a local porter. He will transport your things wherever you wish in the city."

"Thank you."

Bors turned to Percy. "Master Percy, we leave in a moment's time. I take it you will be continuing your travels with us?"

Percy nodded. "I will go with you until Baron's Watch, where I hope to find passage further south."

Bors slapped Percy on the back. "Well then, we'd best make do with the time we have. Autumn storms may be a-coming in a few weeks. Won't want to get caught in one of those."

He raised his hat one last time to Arthur, then marched up the loading plank onto the_ Valiant, _leaving him and Percy alone. The two of them stood awkwardly next to each other.

"So," Arthur said, "I guess we'd best this over with."

"Good luck. You've always been a fool with ladies," Percy joked.

Arthur's face contorted into a frown. "No, I haven't."

Percy laughed. "Liar."

"Idiot."

"Pukeface."

The name-calling would have lasted forever, but a stark bugle call pierced the air, signalling the _Valiant_'s departure.

Percy sighed. "I'll see you soon then?"

Arthur nodded and stuck out his hand. "Until then." The two friends locked eyes and shook.

"Until then," agreed Percy. He turned to leave, but Arthur grabbed his arm.

The red haired youth's eyes bored into his companion's, his tone commanding and stern. "Don't forget."

"I won't."

Satisfied, Arthur let go of his friend, and Percy walked past him and up the ramp. Once the traveler stepped firmly onto the_ Valiant_, the crew hauled in the loading plank, singing their sea shanties as they worked. Bors shouted commands in his roaring voice, telling the sailors to raise the mainsail and prepare to set off.

Slowly, the great vessel began to cast off the dock. Percy appeared above the railing and gave one last wave of farewell. Arthur dipped his head in acknowledgement, and watched as the _Valiant _sailed further and further away, until he could no longer see his brown-headed friend.

His eyes left the sea, and now he turned to survey the land before him.

_Arendelle_, he thought to himself. The name itself sounded welcoming. After weeks of travel, he was finally here. He scanned the kingdom - its cozy-looking houses and its brick-paved streets. And at the end, a palace stood enclosed by castle walls, clean and elegant. It did not look altogether like a bad place.

Mara ambled to him and nudged him gently. He rubbed her neck. "Well, then," he said with a smile, "looks like it's just the two of us now."


	2. Valhalla

**Chapter 2: Valhalla**

* * *

_Valhalla - Outskirts - 21 Years Prior_

The late morning sun hovered just above the horizon, its light drifting down upon the hillocks. The endless sea of wild grass swirled about like the waves of a tossing ocean, blown by the howling of the autumn winds.

Sir Isaac sat at the bottom of a hill, huddled in his deerskin cloak and warming his hands by the fire. Upon his breast was a silver heron, the proud sigil of House Pry. He was a young man, with coarse brown hair that hung down to his neck, and features that some would deem desirable.

Two roasted pieces of pork sizzled in the flames before him, and he licked his lips hungrily. They had not eaten for two days and a night.

The figure standing beside him was a giant of a man. Ritchie of Calloway's great single-headed axe hung loosely on his belt, rattling as the winds rocked it gently. Sir Isaac was a strong man, but he was nothing of comparison to Ritchie. The man had the muscles of a bear, and the frame of an ox; his arms were the size of barrels.

But an empty stomach could quell even the most formidable of men. Ritchie watched his breakfast intently, his jawline tight, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Sir Isaac glanced over at their horses, making sure that they were accounted for. The two animals were tied to a stake nailed to the base of the hillock, and they grazed silently, grateful for a brief respite.

They sat quietly around the fire, until the sound of galloping hooves began to rise over the moaning of the wind. Sir Isaac turned his head, just in time to see a rider appear from the top of the hill. It was the third of their party, a countryman from Arvadia, and their scout.

"We have little time," Lucan shouted as he crested over the hill and slowed his garron to a trot. "They will be upon us within the hour."

"How many did you see?" Isaac asked, rising to his feet.

Lucan was panting heavily, exhausted from his ride. His mount had been driven so hard it wheezed with pain. "There were too many banners to count. Their vanguard must number more than a hundred thousand strong."

"It is a wonder their outriders did not chance upon us," Ritchie said, his voice deep and rumbling.

Sir Isaac turned to him. "It is a wonder we did not see their vanguard sooner," he replied. All thoughts of food had left him as he sifted through his mind, trying to make sense of the situation at hand. As the only one of noble blood, he had full authority over his companions. Their next step was his decision to make.

"We ride for Valhalla immediately," he finally said.

Ritchie looked at Lucan, who was gulping air desperately. "We will not make it. Lucan must rest. Better to move for the Northeastern Outpost, and inform the commander there."

"If we do, we shall lose half a day's journey. They will be at Catcher's Rock by then."

Ritchie's eyes were still on Lucan, whose breathing still had not slowed. "Our horses must be given respite," he argued. "They cannot run for an entire day."

Isaac dismissed his comment. "We are three, and they number by the thousands. Outdistancing them will be no problem." He unstrapped his sword and tossed it aside. "We will need to ride hard. And fast. Rid yourselves of anything that will slow you down. Valhalla is a day away."

He could see that there was disagreement on Ritchie's face, but the burly man relented. The great man moved toward his horse - a garron larger than Lucan's, and shed the huge axe from his belt. Sir Isaac doused the fire before mounting his own steed as well, a black destrier that dwarfed his companions' garrons. "Are you fit to ride, Lucan?" He asked the man.

The scout was tired, but he gave a confident nod. "I can go as far as we need to." Ritchie regarded him in disbelief, but said nothing. Sir Isaac ignored the big man's doubtful looks, and slapped the reins of his horse.

"Ride!" He commanded them, and they were on their way.

The riders moved as swiftly as they could, thundering between the hills with Lucan at their lead. The cold winds bit into the faces of each of them, and clusters of grass kicked up by their horses harried their vision, but for a few hours they did not slow, until Sir Isaac's warhorse began to give. Unaccustomed to sprinting long distances, the destrier had started to tire even sooner than Lucan's overworked mount. No matter how much Sir Isaac urged it on, its powerful legs lost their quick and long stride.

Lucan slowed his steed to meet that of Isaac's, and brushed the long, dark hair from his eyes. "Shall we continue on, Sir Isaac?"

The knight shook his head. At two and twenty years of age, he was not a veteran rider, but he knew that his mount could not travel further at this pace. "My horse will not keep up. We will have to be delayed."

"And what of Valhalla?" Lucan asked. "We may be too late."

Sir Isaac examined Lucan's garron. The horse's chest was heaving frantically. It would falter soon as well. In front of them, Ritchie stopped his horse and waited.

"Ritchie," Isaac called to him, "my horse and Lucan's cannot continue much further. You will have to go alone to Valhalla and warn them."

The large man shook his head. "It matters not. We have been discovered." He pointed to the horizon. A group of figures were descending upon them quickly, riding over and down a hill nearly a hundred yards away.

Sir Isaac cursed. "Outriders?"

Ritchie nodded. "Carrying the banners of Stonehill."

"We should flee," Lucan suggested.

"Their horses will overrun us before long,"said Ritchie grimly. Sir Isaac saw the truth in his words. The outriders would have the fastest and most resilient steeds possible.

"Their main is large enough," he said. "It will be difficult for them to judge friend from foe. Perhaps we may pass off as one of them." Isaac wheeled his horse slowly to face the incoming riders, as did Lucan and Ritchie.

The outriders, numbering two dozen men, approached and halted a small distance away. Half of them had fitted arrows to their bows and eyed the three men warily.

"Greeting, friends!" Sir Isaac called, hoping that he sounded friendly enough. "We hail from Whitecastle!"

The leader of the band trotted forward. "I did not receive word of any further expeditions other than our own," the man said curtly. "My men have no time to waste. What is today's word?"

Isaac glanced at his companions, his heart pounding. Lucan was staring at the ground, all hope lost from his eyes. And Ritchie, Ritchie the Robust, Ritchie the Brave, Ritchie the Fighter, was shaking with fright.

_ I am such a fool. Such a fool. We should have made for the Outpost_. Isaac smiled nervously and tried again. "Surely there is no need for-"

"What is the word?" The outrider asked again sharply. He raised his hand, and the other riders leveled their bows threateningly.

Ritchie spoke up frantically, his voice trembling. "My lord, there is no cause for concern. We are on your side. Perhaps-"

The outrider swung his arm down, and an arrow punched into Ritchie's chest, sending the man sprawling onto the grass. Two riders placed their shafts into Lucan's belly, felling him as his horse screamed frantically. Sir Isaac shied his steed to the side, but his destrier was pierced by an arrow and the wailing beast threw him to the ground. It cried in anguish and stumbled away, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. Isaac felt his left elbow shatter as he landed with a crunch.

He struggled to rise, but his body felt too weak, and too cold. There was another cry as the leader of the outriders drove his spear into Ritchie's back, and the strongman's body went lifelessly limp. Isaac watched as an archer shot a third arrow into moaning Lucan's torso, silencing him._ A fool. I am nothing but a fool_. An arrow slammed into his side, and he saw no more.

* * *

_Valhalla - The Council of Five - 21 Years Prior_

Gareth could not believe what he was hearing. "The armies of the Inquisition are outside our gates, hurling fire upon the city! How can we stand by and watch?"

The Council of Valhalla sat in their places of arrangement, on chairs crafted from ruby and sapphire. They were chosen to be protectors of Valhalla, to rule with wisdom, and to judge prudently. Yet now Gareth doubted if they were of any use.

Councilor Dagon was a decrepit man of seventy years or more, with a set of long, white whiskers and a voice that sounded like grinding steel. "Valhalla is impenetrable," he rasped. "No army has broken its walls for a thousand years. They cannot touch us."

"They are destroying the outer rings as we speak," Gareth said incredulously, his voice echoing loudly off the grand marble walls of the Council Chamber. "We must sally forth to meet them!"

"They must have hundreds of thousands of men," Councilor Zahar boomed. "We cannot hope to quell this invasion by an outward attack."

Gareth stepped forward, his robes flowing. "Does the Council not have faith in its Sentinels?"

An elderly woman dressed in a golden gown, her graying hair tied behind her head, rose from her seat. "The Council does not deny that your talents are worthy, Gareth. But the Inner City is much too important to risk sending our Sentinels for a counter-strike."

The other councilors murmured in agreement. Gareth was astounded. "They are your people! The Council swore to protect them!"

"The Council has made its decision, Gareth," Councilor Dagon said forcibly. "We will not allow you nor any Sentinel to leave the Inner City. Return to your post."

"Valhalla is disgraced," Gareth said angrily.

"Enough!" Councilor Zahar roared. "You will speak no more of this matter, or be exiled from the city. Now leave!"

Gareth clenched his fists defiantly, but said nothing. He would not upset the order of Valhalla's law, no matter how absurd this Council was. With fury in his eyes, he turned quickly and strode away.

* * *

_Valhalla - The Peak - 21 Years Prior_

For a thousand years, Valhalla had been a haven for all . Gareth stood atop the Watcher's Cliff, surveying the city. The sun hung high, embracing the land with its golden glow. But its beauty was for nothing.

The invading armies had destroyed everything in their path. The inner city had remained relatively untouched, but the outer rings and the Merchant's Quarter were ravaged. Gareth gazed upon the ruins far below him. Piles of corpses dotted the landscape.

_So much loss_. He wondered how many lives would have been saved had the Council listened to him. When the Eight Armies arrived at the borders of Valhalla, declaring war, Gareth had called for a sally. _To strike first, hard and fast,_ he had reasoned. But the Council members dismissed his request, believing Valhalla to be impregnable.

They had proven to be fools. After fourteen short weeks of siege, the invading hordes broke through the Southern Gate and began to pillage the Merchant's Quarter. It was only when the Eight Armies arrived at the Inner Wall that the Council invoked upon Gareth the Right of Justice, but it had been too late.

By the time Gareth and his Sentinels had driven off the enemy, half of the outer ring's populace had been slain, and the other half left homeless and hungry. Gareth worked day and night quenching the fires created by the siege weapons of the enemy, and his comrades had set about their own labors - repairing the walls, cleansing the rivers, and purifying the city of disease. In a few days, Valhalla would be restored once again.

But the hearts of the people would take years to win back. Valhalla had always been a beacon of peace, a comfort to the weak, and vindicator of the oppressed. And yet, when the Eight Armies rained death down upon its people, the Council had ruled that no force be sent to protect the outer rings. The inner city was too important for its defenses to be thinned. Gareth could do nothing but watch as thousands perished before his eyes.

_How far we have fallen_, Gareth thought sadly. There was a time when even the highest of Valhalla's Council would stoop down to help a beggar or orphaned child. Yet the Council of old was now forgotten, and they now bickered and squabbled over their incomes and trading powers. Valhalla has grown sluggish in its wealth, and in our slumber, our enemies descended upon us.

A guard approached Gareth, his armor clanking softly, and saluted, breaking the latter from his thoughts. "Lord Gareth, one of the Sentinels has arrived to see you."

Gareth nodded, "Send him here."

The guard gave another salute and sauntered down the hill, where a short figure awaited. The guardsman addressed him and bowed. The small person proceeded to trundle upwards. He was a blue Northern Troll, two-and-a-half feet tall, with dark green hair and dressed in a Sentinel's robe. His stout body resembled that of a smoothed rock. His legs were hardly long enough for him to waddle forward.

"Gareth," the Troll said, "you wanted to speak with me?"

Gareth knelt down on one knee, as he often did when he spoke to his comrade. "Before the siege, you said that you intended to return to your tribe."

The Troll gave a sad nod. "My father died five moons ago. Just as he took up the mantle of leadership when his father passed, so must I. My people look to me now."

"You have been away for twelve years. Surely they would have found another?"

The Troll shook his head. "Such is not our custom. With every day that I am not there to protect them, I fear that they will suffer the same fate as Valhalla did."

"The Inquisition has been vanquished, their Eight Armies dispersed. Your people have nothing to fear."

The Sentinel looked imploringly at Gareth. "Would you not fear for this city if you were in a distant land elsewhere? Would you not wonder if there were wicked men and thieving brigands sneaking past its gates?"

Except that there are already snakes and brigands amongst us. Gareth was silent with thought. With the Inquisition quelled, there was no longer a need for the Sentinels to keep a close guard on Valhalla. Yet, he feared of what the Council might rule next. Should the need arise, Gareth would require all the Sentinels he could muster.

Sighing, he got to his feet. " You have served Valhalla well. I would never withhold this right from you. You are free to leave, and you shall have my blessing."

The Troll bowed thankfully. "I shall remain until the walls have been repaired fully. You have my gratitude, Gareth."

"And you have mine as well," Gareth said with a small smile. He turned back to his examination of the city.

The Troll ambled forward to share the view, his stubby feet shuffling across the precipice. The sight of the ruined city pained him. "Valhalla has lost much."

"We all have," Gareth said quietly.

They said nothing for a moment. The Troll looked sadly at his friend. "I am sorry. About Mara."

Gareth turned away. In the chaos of battle and restoring the peace, Gareth had been given no time to mourn.

The Troll knew it was a subject best not pursued. He cleared his throat. "Well, I shall be sure not to depart before the boy's birthday. I will miss him dearly."

Gareth nodded. "And he shall miss you too. Arthur has become very fond of you. It is his second birthday in a week's time."

"Then I shall endeavor to visit you and him as much as possible, before I set off. But first, I must aid the builders in completing the repairs. With your leave?"

"Until later."

The Troll hefted his robes and made his way down.


	3. Stranger and Stranger Still

**Chapter 3: Stranger and Stranger Still**

* * *

_Arendelle Castle Gates_

The sun began to set, and the streets started to empty as the people of Arendelle retired to their homes. Mara trotted slowly through the castle bridge, with Arthur saddled atop her. Arthur was dressed in a crimson jacket and a white pair of pants, clothes fitting for a meeting with the Queen, though he doubted he would be able to get an audience this late. He had dismissed the porter; his father had taught him not to be waited on by servants.

The gates had not been shut yet, though night was fast approaching. _How odd_. Louis had said that Arendelle's queen was agreeable, but Arthur had not expected the palace to be run so loosely. The estate itself looked rather small for a Royal Palace. It was about the size of a Councilor's mansion, though it lacked the extravagance that the politicians of Valhalla were so proud of.

A lightly armed guard stepped forth and hailed them. He was relatively tall, with a uniform made of furs and a soldier's hat. "Halt! All visitors past sunset are to be searched before entry."

"Your gates are open," Arthur said with a smile. _He keeps his weapon sheathed._ "And why don't you draw your weapon?"

The guard gave a look of confusion and glanced at his side, where a sword hung loosely to his belt. "What of it?"

"Well," Arthur gave a laugh, "I am a stranger."

"And so?"

Arthur sighed. "Why search me if your gates are open at night?"

"By decree of the Queen, sir. No visitor is to be turned away. I just have to search you for weapons."

_What a place_. Still maintaining his grin, Arthur dismounted smoothly and held his arms up for the man to examine him. The guard blinked, at first unsure of what to do, but then making up his mind and proceeding to pat Arthur down.

"So this Queen of yours," Arthur said. "What's her name?"

"Elsa," the guard replied as he checked Arthur's coat pockets.

"Ah. And she lets anyone come into the castle?"

"Not everyone, of course," the guard chuckled. "I'm supposed to stop anyone who would be dangerous. I'm not saying you mean any harm, sir."

_Funny man,_ Arthur thought humorously. "No, it's fine."

Arthur had brought no weapons with him - he had seen no reason to. The guard finished his search, stepped backwards, and extended his right arm towards the gate. "You may enter."

"Thank you." Arthur took Mara by the reins and led her into the castle walls. He looked around him intently. The interior of the residence was made mostly from timber, with neatly cut stone tiles laid on the floor and a fountain on either side. In Valhalla, it would have been laughed upon by those of the upper classes. But Arthur cared not what the wealthy of his city had to say.

A portly steward jogged down the steps to meet him.

"Good evening, sir," the man greeted. "You wish to see the Queen?"

Arthur gave a curt nod. "If she'll see me. I won't want to bother her if she-"

"Oh, the Queen is quite free now," the steward replied cheerfully. He beckoned to one of the servants. "Inform the Queen that there is a guest here to see her."

As the steward was speaking, a stable-boy appeared behind the steward and offered to take Mara to the stables. She was not unwilling to follow him. The mare sniffed eagerly at the boy's tunic. _He's got apples. _

"Behave yourself, Mara," Arthur said as he handed over the reins. The steward inclined his head towards the door, and began to walk up the steps. Arthur followed.

"So, the Queen keeps the gates open during the night?"

"Ah, yes," the steward said proudly. "Queen Elsa has been changing the castle's customs in order to accommodate the needs of the townsfolk."

A pair of servants opened the doors to the palace, and the steward led Arthur inside. There was a rug to wipe his shoes on, which Arthur proceeded to use, while the steward waited patiently for him. There was hardly any dirt - he had not been traveling long. They continued on down the hall. Arthur scanned his surroundings as he had done outside.

The palace was not as well-decorated as the houses in Inner Valhalla, but it was far from plain. Suits of armor stood watch on either end, vivid paintings of every color hung on the walls, and a glorious chandelier loomed over them from the ceiling. As they walked down the hallways, Arthur could hear the patter of his boots hitting the soft, clean carpet on the gently carved wooden floors.

The throne room was situated on the second level of the palace. Arthur climbed the neat row of stairs and entered the court as the steward held the door open.

Inside, the Queen stood before her throne, garbed in a blue gown that was spread around her. Her silver hair hung braided on her left shoulder.

Arthur waited for the steward to announce him, but the man did not. It was only then that Arthur realize he had forgotten to tell him his name. He turned to do so, but the steward had already left the room and closed the door. _Stranger and stranger still, _Arthur thought.

The Queen greeted him. "Hello, good sir."

Arthur swiveled back around, with a smile on his face. "Your Majesty," he walked up to her and bowed low, "it is a pleasure to finally meet you."

"And you," the Queen returned his smile. She curtsied. "I'm sorry, but I don't seem to know your name... and where you're from."

_You would, if your steward had announced me_. Arthur straightened his back and tilted his head to the side. "Well, I'm Arthur the Second, from Valhalla."

Elsa gave a small laugh. "I'm afraid I have never heard of such a place."

_I had never heard of Arendelle either, _Arthur thought, _no one had. _He maintained his smile. "We're quite far away from here, I don't blame you."

"It's wonderful, I'm sure," Elsa said.

_Ha ha, _Arthur thought scornfully. But he kept smiling. "Thank you."

"So," the Queen said quickly, "what have you come to Arendelle for? Is it about ice?"

That was another thing. Louis had insisted the Queen had frozen over her entire kingdom, by accident, then thawed it soon after. Percy and Arthur had been slow to believe him, since Louis had already told them what they were looking for. _I will be the judge of whether she truly possesses this element, _Arthur had said to Percy as they sailed to Arendelle.

"No," Arthur replied, "although I _am_ sure your powers are magnificent. I've come to see Pabbie the Northern Troll. I heard that he was living somewhere in your kingdom, at a place called the Valley of the Living Rock."

"Oh." Elsa looked surprised. "Pabbie does live in Arendelle, but not many people know how to get to the Valley."

"Are you one of them?" Arthur asked hopefully.

To his disappointment, Elsa shook her head. "I've been there once, but I'm afraid I don't remember the way. I was only eight back then."

"Ah."

"But," Elsa said lightheartedly, "I know of someone who does. Our Ice-Master Kristoff was raised among Pabbie's tribe. He could show you how to get there."

"Ice-Master?" Arthur had never heard of anything more peculiar. "I thought you could make ice."

"Oh, Kristoff goes to the North Mountain to harvest the ice there. The way it's preserved there makes it last longer than mine. And some say it has a different texture."

"Right," Arthur nodded, "and... is Kristoff here tonight?"

Elsa shook her head gently again. "He left for the North Mountain yesterday. He'll be back by noon tomorrow."

Arthur cleared his throat. "I won't want to trouble him by making him leave again."

"He'll definitely want to stay for a bit, yes," Elsa laughed. Arthur had no idea what she meant, but if it meant that he had to wait, he was prepared to do so. And if here were to have to wait...

"I'll need a room." He might as well ask. The palace looked spacious, and Arendelle had been proving hospitable enough. Weeks aboard a creaking caravel had left him exhausted. Even if he could find no lodging here, the inn he had passed by earlier today looked satisfactory to Arthur. Queen Elsa understood.

"We'll be happy to give you one," she began to move for the door, and Arthur trailed behind her. Outside, the steward who had received Arthur stood waiting with another servant.

"Kai, please find Arthur a suitable room. Make sure he's comfortable."

The steward bowed. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"Thank you," Elsa turned to Arthur. "Will you be joining us for dinner, then?"

In truth, he was feeling rather hungry. He had not eaten for the better part of the day, and his diet aboard the _Valiant_ had consisted of little more than eggs, fish, bread, and salted beef. But Arthur had to decline. "I'm certain the food is delicious, but I have other matters to attend to. I'll be back in a few hours. I hope you won't be offended."

The Queen smiled. "Not at all. Don't let us keep you."

Arthur bowed low again to the Queen. "Your Majesty." He turned and walked briskly to the front door.

"What a strange fellow," he heard Kai the steward say.

"Shh," Elsa's good-natured voice echoed quietly off the walls.

* * *

_Castle Arendelle _

As Arthur exited the palace, night had arrived in full. He stepped quickly into the stables, where Mara was crunching on an apple contentedly. _That was quick, _her eyes said.

The stable-boy who had taken Mara earlier approached Arthur. "Will you be needing her again?"

Arthur nodded. The stable-boy unhitched the door, and Mara trotted out. _And I was getting comfortable, too_. The stable-boy helped Arthur placed the reins in Mara's mouth and saddle her.

"Thanks," Arthur told the boy as he mounted his mare. He slapped the reins and brought Mara to a trot, and they made their way out of the castle gates. The guard who had searched Arthur before saluted to him, and he nodded in response.

They galloped through the city streets, their shadows fluttering from the torchlight and brightly lit windows. Arthur knew not where they were going, but it didn't matter. He just had to find a place where he could be alone.

* * *

_Arendelle, East of the Capital_

The silvery glow of the summer moon glinted off of Mara's milky skin as her hooves pounded on the turf of the hills outside Arendelle's capital. Arthur loved the feeling of the breeze blowing gently into his face, his bright red hair flying wild. Mara cantered further and further through the landscape, and the lights of the city faded away, until the capital was nothing but a twinkle in the night.

"I think we're fine right here," Arthur said gently to Mara, as they traveled into a small alcove. He observed his surroundings with satisfaction. The hill would shield him from the watch of the city. Mara slowed to a stop and allowed Arthur to get off. Above them, the stars glittered vibrantly in the black sky, dancing about the moon as it cast its splendor onto the ground. An evening draft swept through, swaying the stalks of grass back and forth. Leaning down, Arthur ran his hand through the pasture, feeling every piece of green.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath of the fresh mountain air. "Perfect."

It had been fifteen days since he last practiced. _Fifteen days too long_, he thought. Arthur had been afraid to try anything aboard a ship, even one so fine and majestic as the _Valiant_. With a smile, he opened his eyes and glanced at Mara. The horse had trotted slowly to the side, so as to give him space.

Arthur took out his ruby and rubbed it - for old times' sake. He could remember the sound of his father's voice. _Let us begin_, Gareth would say, his words ringing loud and clear in the Sky Pits of Valhalla.

With speed and sureness from a thousand rehearsals, Arthur shot his hands forward, punching the air. Two spouts of flame erupted from his fists, streaking fiercely through the wind. He swiveled his body and lashed forward with his right arm in a stabbing motion. A stream of flames flowed from his fingers, burning angrily.

Taking another deep breath, Arthur placed all of his concentration into the gush of fire. Mara watched him as he turned the flames slowly from red to orange. Arthur continued to focus his strength until it transformed into a white inferno, then a dazzling blue. He lifted his arm, and the flames died.

He sped through the various exercises he had learned in Valhalla, his limbs flurrying with fluid agility, filling the night with bursts of flame bright as the evening stars. _No emotion. _They were words he had heard all his life. _Only the power of your mind and the strength of your body_. Arthur finished with a thrust of his arms, sending a tiny line of fire pouring from his hands. He slashed it in a wide arc around him, sending sparks into the air. It was long as a spear, yet thin as thin as a child's finger. Enough to disarm a dangerous criminal. Or deflect an arrow. _Control and precision. To use them is a Sentinel's duty._

He quenched the flames and examined his surroundings. Not a single blade of grass had been scorched or burned. Arthur allowed his arms to drop to his side. _But I am no Sentinel_. _Not anymore._

His thoughts were broken by Mara, who neighed softly. Arthur turned to her, and she looked questioningly into his eyes. _Aren't you going to try it?_

"I've tried hundreds of times, Mara," Arthur said with a sigh. "Maybe a thousand." But he turned around and extended his arms forward.

_To achieve this_, Gareth had said_, you must understand the true nature of fire_.

Swiveling his arms, Arthur placed his feet evenly apart and bent his knees. He had seen Gareth do it dozens of times. With a grunt, Arthur pushed his arms forward, his eyes furrowed in concentration. A sliver of energy formed before him, pulsing crisply. He gathered all of his strength, willing it into his hands. The shard of heat glowed blue, crackling with power. Arthur tensed his muscles, trying to expand it. _Focus. Feel the fire_.

But he could not.

There was a resounding _crack _and a flash of light, and Arthur found himself being hurled backwards, almost landing on Mara. The mare had scrambled to her feet and jumped away. He groaned in pain from the impact, and checked to see if he had broken anything. Mara trotted back to him. _It's all right_, he felt her wet nose on his head.

"It was worth a try," Arthur shrugged as he got to his feet. He moved to Mara's side and mounted her.

Mara shook her mane and turned an eye to him. _Back to the stables? _

"Yeah," Arthur yawned quietly. "It's time we got some sleep."

He could feel Mara's stomach rumble underneath him. _And more food_.


	4. A Past that Haunts

**Chapter 4: A Past That Haunts**

* * *

_Valhalla - The Sky Pits - 16 Years Prior_

"Class is over, Arthur."

Imperius towered over him, his eyes gleaming with scorn. Around him whirled a furor of air that condensed so much it became visible. The ring of wind moved forward threateningly.

Arthur remembered what his father had told him the night before. _If you show Imperius your fear, you will only embolden him. _

"I'm not afraid of you," he said, trying to sound confident. But his quavering voice betrayed him.

The older boy lunged forward and swept Arthur off his feet with a gust of air. "You're a coward, Artie. That's all you ever were. Just like your mother."

"My mother wasn't a coward."

Imperius barked with laughter, allowing the tempest around him to subside. "Oh yes, she was. She ran when the Inquisition's armies invaded, I saw her do it. And when she left the people to die, she paid the price for it."

Arthur knew there was no way the older boy was telling the truth, but the words stung. "You're lying," he said angrily, trying to stop the tears welling up in his eyes.

With a mocking smile on his face, Imperius leaned in close to Arthur. "Aw shucks, Arthur, are you_ crying_? Don't let big daddy Gareth see you like that," he japed.

Arthur clenched his jaws. With furious eyes, he raised his arm, ready to send out a bolt of fire. But it was knocked aside by a flick of Imperius's hand.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Imperius sneered. "You haven't even mastered your Third Tome."

"Better than you when you were eight," Arthur retorted.

Imperius pounced upon Arthur and grabbed him by his shirt. He lifted a finger to the younger lad's cheek, conjuring a sliver of air as sharp as a sword.

"Say that again." Imperius said between gritted teeth, lowering his voice to a dangerous whisper.

Arthur tried to flinch away, but Imperius's grip held him fast.

"SAY IT!" Imperius yelled, spittle flying from his mouth.

Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but no words came forth, only a pathetic croak. He shut his eyes and shook his head, trembling with fright. With a grin, Imperius stood up and threw the boy aside. "Just like I thought. You're a coward, Artie."

Imperius strode away, his gray hair fluttering in the wind of the Sky Pits, purple cape flowing grandly. Once he left, Arthur rose and wiped the dust off of his clothes. What would father say?

Every dawn since Arthur had been six, he was expected to arrive at the Sky Pits to be instructed on his powers. When he had first started his training, Imperius was already a strapping lad of ten years. _I am the chosen of Valhalla_, Imperius had told Arthur on his first day, _you will listen to and obey whatever I say. _

It had seemed so, for Imperius was the son of one of the five Councilors who ruled the city. Arthur's father had disliked the situation from the start. _No good can come from it,_ he said often, _no family should wield the power of both the elements and the Council. _But the Council had ruled that Imperius's father would keep his seat, and Imperius was allowed to train as the Sentinel of Air.

The fact that his father was a great politician took great effect upon Imperius, who imposed himself as much as he could upon the younger Arthur. Hardly a day passed when Arthur did not receive some unkind word or stinging blow from his peer. And as time passed, Imperius became bolder, tormenting Arthur even in front of their teachers, who were hesitant to discipline a Councilor's child. Arthur had appealed to his father for help, but it did nothing. _A Sentinel must learn to stand up for himself_, Gareth had said whenever Arthur spoke to him of Imperius's actions, _or he will never be able to stand for others_. But how could he stand up against someone who was bigger, stronger, and faster than him?

Arthur had asked himself that question every morning when he woke up, and every evening before he slept. _It's no use_, Arthur thought now, _every day will just be the same_. He hung his head dejectedly and began the journey home.

* * *

_Castle Arendelle - Present Day_

Arthur woke late into the morning. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and glanced out of his window. The early sun cast its brilliant light over the Bay of Arendelle, painting the sky amber and gold. Birds flitted about, singing in high voices. Outside, the people of Arendelle had started their business - bartering for goods, hammering away at their anvils, sweeping the streets.

_How long have I slept_? Arthur scrambled out of his bed and stumbled into the bathroom, where there were polished marble tiles, a set of warm candles, an ornamented washbin, and a steel bathtub. He filled the washbin with cold water and splashed some on his face, allowing the freezing sensation to awaken him.

After he washed up, he donned a red linen shirt and a black leather vest. Refreshed and changed, Arthur pocketed his ruby dragon and placed the chain with his mother's ring around his neck. He strode to the bedroom door and opened it. A servant was standing outside. The man bowed politely and placed his hands behind his back.

"Good morning, Sir Arthur," he said.

"Just Arthur, I'm not of noble blood," replied Arthur.

"The Queen wishes to know if you will have breakfast with her and Princess Anna."

"Are they still eating?" Arthur asked, taken aback.

The servant smiled graciously. "The Queen and Princess are still asleep."

"Did anything happen last night?"

"Oh no, sir. The Queen and Princess often rest until this time."

In Valhalla, Arthur would have been disciplined harshly by his instructors for sleeping past dawn. _I suppose royalty has its benefits,_ he thought. "I will accept Queen Elsa's offer, but don't bother waking them up at my expense. Now, which way to the food?"

"The Dining Room is right this way, sir."

* * *

_Castle Arendelle - The Royal Bedchambers_

Elsa finished her morning bath and changed into a set of fresh clothes. She spread her arms, and a burst of ice transformed her clothing into a lavender gown. It was a daily affair that she had taken up after the unfreezing of Arendelle.

Every morning she would take an outfit of hers and transmute it into something she preferred. Of course, there were certain dresses and garments that she held dear and never dreamed of changing, but Elsa had so far run through more than half of her wardrobe. She tossed her hair backwards and gazed into her mirror, checking that she was presentable.

Her sister burst into her room, clothes crumpled and hair frazzled.

"Hello-oo!" Anna sang as she waltzed inside.

"Anna," Elsa smiled, "get dressed, we have a visitor here today."

"That's what I heard," Anna collapsed onto Elsa's unmade bed.

"Then get changed," Elsa poked her sister on the side.

"Why wasn't he at dinner yesterday?"

"I don't know, he said he had something he needed to do."

"Like what?"

Elsa shrugged. "I don't know," she repeated. She stared into her window thoughtfully. Arthur's visit _was_ rather strange. No one had ever come to Arendelle asking to meet Pabbie. Usually all the men were foreign dignitaries seeking an alliance or suitors hoping to marry the Snow Queen.

"Was he dreamy?" Anna grinned.

"What?"

"You have that look on your face," Anna said enthusiastically, "like you're thinking about something."

"He was... different," Elsa said cautiously.

"Like... you like him different?"

"What?" Elsa asked incredulously. "No, just..."

"Dreamy."

"Anna, go get changed."

"Come on," Anna stretched out on the bed, "tell me."

With a sigh, Elsa consented. "When he came to the throne room, he seemed like he knew something. And he wasn't telling me what it was."

"Maybe he knows you can make snow?"

"Everyone knows that, Anna," Elsa laughed.

"Anything else, then? Did he want to marry you? Like that Spanish guy? What was his name? Eduardo the Thirty-Eighth?"

Elsa shook her head, grinning. "No, not like him. This one asked to see Pabbie."

Anna sat up. "Like, _Pabbie_ Pabbie? Kristoff's Pabbie? Our Pabbie?"

"Yes, our Pabbie."

The subject seemed to interest Anna. "What for?"

"He didn't say."

"Ooh. Mysterious," Anna teased.

"All right Anna," Elsa grabbed her sister and hauled her up. She pushed her gently towards the door. "Go get changed. He's probably downstairs eating breakfast already."

"Oh! What do we have?"

"I think they said they were making lemon pancakes."

"Yeuch," Anna shivered. "Who eats those anyway?"

Elsa pointed to Anna's room, which was adjacent to hers. Her sister held her hands up in surrender.

"All right, I'm going, I'm going."

After ensuring that her sister stopped dallying, Elsa made her way down to the dining room. It was often reserved for the royal siblings and their guests, if they were hosting any. But on normal days, the castle staff were free to eat there during mealtimes. Arthur was already seated on a bench, wolfing down pancakes and speaking to a guardsman.

"So," Arthur told the guard, "if you keep your sword high, you'll have more options when attacking or parrying. Granted, you can't really lunge, but it'll save your skin more often than not."

The guard, a man by the name of Flydd, was also biting into a lemon pancake, but with less enthusiasm than Arthur. He nodded in agreement as Arthur spoke.

Gerda approached Elsa and curtsied. "Good morning, Your Majesty. Would you care for some breakfast?"

"I think I'll just have some bread and butter today," Elsa answered, giving Gerda a knowing wink. Lemon pancakes were an experimental effort of Kai's. So far, both the royal family _and_ the kitchen staff had found little liking for them. The steward smiled and and went off to the kitchens.

Elsa moved toward the two men in conversation. Flydd noticed her and stood from the table. "The Queen is here to speak to you," he told Arthur. "Perhaps we may discuss this further sometime else." He bowed to Elsa and left.

Arthur wiped his mouth and rose as well. "Your Majesty, the food is delicious."

His statement seemed genuine enough. _Looks like Kai has found his first supporter,_ Elsa thought, amused. She smiled graciously. "My apologies for being late. I hadn't realized it was so late. Will you still be eating with us?"

"I've still got some room," Arthur patted his stomach. "If I may-"

He was interrupted by Anna, who entered wearing a black skirt, yellow bodice, and an olive blouse. "Hi, I'm here," she announced. Elsa extended her arm towards her sister, who took it happily.

"Anna, this is Arthur the Second, from Valhalla," she said.

Arthur bowed. "A pleasure to meet you, Your Highness," he said cordially. "I take it you are friends with Kristoff the Ice Master?"

"Oh, we're kind of... more than friends," Anna replied sheepishly.

Arthur laughed. "I see. And does he often travel to the Valley of the Living Rock?"

"If you mean to see his family, then yes," Anna answered. "He goes once in a while."

"When we say family, we mean the Northern Trolls. Kristoff was raised by Pabbie and his tribe," explained Elsa. "He was just a boy when his parents disappeared."

Arthur's face fell. "I understand," he said softly.

Afraid she had offended him, Elsa spoke again. "Is something wrong?"

The red-haired foreigner shook his head. "It's... It's nothing."

The trio were silent for an few awkward heartbeat. In the end, it was Anna who saved them. "So," she said radiantly, "why weren't you at dinner last night?"

But Arthur withdrew even more. "I had... things to do. Forgive me if I say you wouldn't understand."

"Leave him alone, Anna," Elsa interceded gently. She exchanged a look with her sister. _He's different all right, _Anna's face seemed to say. Gerda reappeared from the kitchens, carrying Elsa's breakfast.

"Princess Anna," she greeted, "would you like anything to eat?"

"Anything but lemon pancakes," Anna whispered, looking to make sure Kai was not around. Gerda placed Elsa's food on a table and left again to order Anna's meal.

"Shall we eat over at the high table?" Elsa suggested lightly. "The seats are very comfortable."

"Of course,"Arthur said, putting on another smile. But Elsa could see that his mind was elsewhere. _He has a past, whatever it is__,_ she thought as they moved toward the elevated dais._ A past that haunts him._


	5. The Valley of the Living Rock

**Chapter 5: The Valley of the Living Rock**

**Note: **In recent days, I have been much too busy to release another chapter, until now. Let me just mention that I have planned out a story-line that spans much further than what I have posted so far. Everything in my previous chapters will be integral to this plot. I estimate it will take about 30 chapters in all to conclude all of the planned content. Please review, stranger feedback is one of the only reasons why I bothered touching at all. If you don't have much to add, just plug in a comment or something. I won't mind.

* * *

_Castle Arendelle - Courtyard - Present Day_

"Are you ready?"

The children clapped eagerly. "Yes!" Some of them shouted. Elsa held on to the hem of her gown and stepped firmly in front of her. A sheet of ice formed below her shoe and spread rapidly through the courtyard. The children roared with delight and rushed onto the ice, skidding about in glee.

A veteran skater, Anna entered the make-shift ice rink as well. Elsa lifted her arms gracefully, creating thin pillars of ice along the castle's alcoves. With a flick of her wrist, she froze the twin fountains on either end of the estate. The water crackled merrily, clear and blue in the late morning's sunlight.

Arthur was impressed. _She shows control, for someone untrained, _he thought. _Though she uses emotion. I can feel it_. He watched Elsa as she looked to make sure everything was in order.

Arthur did not know what to make of the Queen. She was beautiful - her platinum hair braided neatly, her face and skin smooth as silk, her figure attractive. Yet something about her unnerved him, but he was not sure what.

_Perhaps it is the cold_. He summoned a tiny flame to his fingertips, taking care that no one was watching, just to feel its warmth, its familiarity. But he was forced to dissipate it quickly when Elsa turned to face him. Arthur smiled politely.

"If I had any doubt about your powers, you've shattered them."

"You're too kind." She gestured to the ice. "Would you like a pair of skates?"

"That would be nice." _Why not? _Arthur had never been given the chance to skate in Valhalla. He jumped in surprise as he felt something grab his feet, ready to blast fire at this new threat. But when he glanced down at his feet, he realized that it had only been two ice-skating shoes, magically materialized for him by Elsa.

The Queen was giggling quietly at his reaction, covering her mouth with her hands. If she had noticed anything wrong, she did not show it. _That was close_, he thought exasperatedly._  
_

Elsa regained her composure. "I'm sorry, it's just I've never seen anyone react that way before."

"It's all right," he said as he stepped onto the ice.

Arthur's eyes widened as he felt himself slip. He jerked to one side, catching himself before he fell. _This is harder than I thought_. To his dismay, he began to drift toward the center of the courtyard. Arms flailing and struggling to keep his balance, he careened mindlessly about, taking sharp breaths every time he felt himself wobble.

Elsa had broken into laughter again. "Do you need help?" She called.

"No. thank you," Arthur insisted, his cheeks reddening slightly in embarrassment, "I'm fine."

He leaned from side to side, trying to acquaint himself with the slick, moist ice. _Keep calm, _he told himself as he lifted one foot gingerly and placed it in front of him. Slowly, he began to shift his weight forward onto his outstretched foot. Perhaps it was the pressure he felt from a woman watching him, or just a simple misjudgment, but Arthur gave a yell as he felt his feet zip out under him and flop onto the ground, landing unceremoniously on his rear. Grunting and flustered, he attempted to push himself up, but the slippery ice felled him again as he tried to stand._  
_

The Queen's laughter pealed through the courtyard. She leapt onto the ice and glided over to him, wearing only a pair of crystal . "Sure you don't need a bit of help?"

His hair mussed up, Arthur looked upwards. He nodded with an exhausted smile. "Yeah, I think I do."

Elsa extended her hand to him. He took it and she helped to pull him to his feet.

"Thanks," Arthur said, hoping he wouldn't fall again. "That was horrible."

"It's perfectly normal," Elsa told him kindly. "Don't be afraid of falling. Why don't you try again?"

He did so, this time with knees bent and arms held out. Slowly but with intense determination, Arthur became accustomed to the ice. He was soon able to move around with more ease and stop quite efficiently. Elsa applauded him when he learned to turn and managed to skate in a circle.

He spoke up as soon as he felt he deserved a break. "So, how often do you do this?"

Elsa looked around at the children playing noisily, and at her sister, who was romping about with them. "Every day, around this time," she replied, content with what she saw. "The children haven't eaten lunch yet, so they wouldn't have any... accidents."

Arthur chuckled at her choice of words. "It is a wonderful thing you're doing for your people.

"It's the least I can do for them. And for Anna," Elsa said, a hint of guilt hanging in her voice. She watched her sister pick up a small boy and whirl him around with a yell of joy. The sight of it brought a smile to her face.

Arthur could not help but feel sorry for her. The crew aboard the _Valiant_ had been well aware of his powers, Captain Bors included. But the fourteen days that he had controlled himself left him so restrained he thought he would have burst. To live for over a decade this way, and trying to conceal one's magic even from those closest to you - Arthur could not think of anything more terrible.

"So," Elsa broke him from his thoughts, "tell me, what is Valhalla like?"

Arthur was reluctant to discuss the topic, but the Queen had readily shown him her hospitality, and he felt it rude not to meet her query with an answer. He wondered where to begin. "It's very big." The simplicity of the statement made Arthur feel like a dumb brute. But his naive reply did not seem to bother Elsa.

Valhalla consisted of only one capital, but it was gigantic in size. Arthur remembered what one of his teachers, an old man who had since passed away named Sage Hakem, had told him of the city's area. "It stretches for seventy miles from east to west," he continued. "And another seventy from north to south. The city is made of three rings, so it's shaped like a circle."

He formed an 'O' with his forefingers and thumbs. Elsa's lips curved upward in wonder. "I've never even imagined a city that huge," she said. "How many people can it fit?"

Arthur creased his brow, trying estimate the number. "I think about a million people live in the Outer Ring - that's where all the workers and sailors and smiths and masons are. The Inner Ring has about two hundred thousand residents - supervisors, artists, high-ranking soldiers, and the like."

"What about the third ring?"

Smiling, Arthur shook his head. "The innermost ring is called the Sanctum. We don't really have anyone living there, besides the wise men or politicians. It's where all the important matters are handled."

"And where did you stay? In the Sanctum?"

The images flooded back into his mind. His home on the hillside, its white concrete walls glossy in the summer sun or the pale moon, the heavy oaken door - always left ajar in the day, the scarlet-tiled rooftop, where he and his father would sit watching the stars in the night. The memories caused his heart to ache like a knife had stabbed his chest, but he willed himself to answer the Queen's question. "I lived in the Inner Ring. My family owned a comfortable house right outside the Sanctum, at the base of a gentle green hill. We didn't have any neighbors - the place was just by itself, a little way from the main districts. Nothing grand, but it was good enough for the work that my family did there."

Elsa's interest in the subject seemed to strengthen. "What exactly did you do in Valhalla?"

Arthur had anticipated the question. "My parent were part of a Royal Guard of sorts. They were meant to keep the peace in all three rings of the city. I was supposed to follow in their footsteps. But... things just didn't work out." There was no remorse in his voice, but the Queen gave him a sympathizing look.

"I'm sorry about that," she said.

"Don't be," Arthur smiled. "I'm glad I left. It's not what it was anymore."

"Oh?"

"When the founders of Valhalla built the city," Arthur explained, "they had meant for it to be a place where people from all nations and lands could come and live in peace. They erected three great walls that ringed the city to protect it from invaders. But as time passed, and Valhalla grew richer and richer, money became the focus of our citizens. And our government's. Corruption has spread like a virus in the city, so I left."

"That's too bad," Elsa said sadly. "It sounded amazing."

Sometimes Arthur wished he could have been born in that time - where a man could run a business without having to watch his back for his enemies, or a boy could go to school without the ominous shadow of a bully behind him, or a Sentinel could keep the peace without fear of what the Council would rule the next day. It was why he enjoyed Arendelle so much. The people were not the most capable, talented, clever, or witty he had met, but honest, good-willed, and unenvious of those around them. They greeted each other without the suspicious hint in their eyes like the merchants of the Outer Ring, and did not gossip spitefully like the artisans or complain of their wages like the workers or cheat their customers like the physicians.

Even as a foreigner, Arthur had been treated with warmth when he toured the streets earlier by himself. _New here? _A baker had asked. When Arthur gave a positive reply, the man handed him a steaming loaf of bread, free of charge. _Come see me anytime if you want some breakfast_,_ it's only three copper coin for one,_ the pastry chef said cheerfully. Even the shop-owners waved at him as he passed by their stores.

Arthur was enticed by this country. He could stay here forever. This prompted his next question. "What about you?" He asked Elsa. "Tell me about Arendelle. Your people seem content enough."

The Queen gave a short laugh. "We've been quite prosperous because of my father. He built strong trade partners with Frankland and Etalia, so we've had coin to fill our coffers for the past thirty years."

"Your father is a wise man," Arthur commented.

A sad look passed Elsa's face. "Was. My parents died three and a half years ago. They were sailing to meet the King of the Southern Isles, but an autumn storm caught up with them. Anna and I are the only ones left in our family."

Of course, Arthur had already known that her father and mother had perished at sea. Louis had left no detail unaccounted for when Arthur and Percy had visited him. But he felt as though he should say something. "I am sorry for your loss."

Elsa smiled in reply. "Some days I like to think my parents are somewhere better, far away in some world after this one." She paused for a moment, then spoke again. "And what about you? When did your mother die?"

Arthur drew his head back in surprise, eyes and ears alert. In his short time in Arendelle, he had never revealed his mother's death to anyone. "How did you..." _  
_

The intensity in his voice startled her. "Sorry," she said. "I'm surprised I even said that. I... I just kind of felt it. I'm sorry."

Arthur studied her for a few seconds, the shock of the moment still ringing. This was something new he had never seen in the Queen before. It scared him. But it was intriguing as well. "What do you mean by 'you felt it'?" he asked, suspicion still lingering in his mind.

"Just... the way you talk," Elsa struggled to explain, "and the... things you say, I guess. I don't really know. I'm sorry I said it at all."

"No, no, it's fine." Arthur said gently. He had not intended for her to feel guilty. Perhaps if he told her what happened, she would not be as ashamed of herself. He cleared his throat, beginning to describe the event. "It was twenty-one years ago, when my mother died. Valhalla was under attack, from the largest army the world had ever seen, and my mother had been called up to defend the Outer Ring. My father had gone to the Sanctum to request for more resources to fight the invaders. But when he was speaking to the Council, the walls were overwhelmed by artillery fire. My father found her corpse in the wreckage. She had been struck in the back by a cannonball. I was only two."

"You were two years old when your mother died?" Elsa asked, astonished.

He nodded his head solemnly. "I never really knew her."

Elsa opened her mouth to speak again, but she stopped short of her sentence. She pointed towards the castle bridge. "Oh, look, he's back."

Arthur turned to see a broad figure with blond-hair, dressed in winter clothing, riding on a black sled pulled by a reindeer. More than a dozen huge blocks of ice were stacked behind him, crystallized sapphire cubes glistening with moisture. But what caught Arthur's attention was a short snowman with a carrot-nose standing on top of the ice, waving his arms - a pair of forked twigs. Above the little figure hovered a white cloud of cold, sprinkling snow on him. "Hey, it's Elsa!" The snowman shouted. "And some... guy!"

The sled cruised through the castle gates smoothly, gliding as it hit the ice. It slowed to a stop as a few of the children hurried over, with Anna in the lead. The latter was especially glad to see the newcomers.

"Kristoff!" She cried, zipping past Arthur and Elsa. The Ice-Master hopped out of the sled and chuckled as he swept Anna up in his arms.

"You're acting like you haven't seen me in years," he laughed.

Anna rolled her eyes. "Maybe a bit."

The snowman leapt from his perch and landed in front of Arthur. "Hey! We've got a visitor!"

Elsa stepped forward. "Olaf, this is Arthur," she introduced. "Arthur, this is our snowman - Olaf."

"Hi, I'm Olaf," the snowman piped, "and I like warm hugs!"

Arthur blinked. Louis had forgotten to mention an animated snowman to him.

"What... how...?" He faced Elsa, "Did you make him?"

Anna broke off from her hug with Kristoff and addressed the bewildered Arthur. "Oh, if you're so excited about Olaf, you should've seen Marshmallow. He was this gi_gantic _ice giant that coulda crushed you with his foot!"

Olaf cringed, as if he were recalling something. "Ah yeah, Marshmallow. That guy was _brr-ah_," his head shivered. Anna and Kristoff both gave a laugh.

"Ice giant?" Arthur repeated.

"Yes," Elsa confirmed. "It's another part of my powers. I can make things come to life."

_But that's impossible, _Arthur thought. _She hasn't had any training - no knowledge of how to use her magic__. How has she gotten to this point already? _He felt a new-found sense of respect for this Queen. _I have underestimated her immensely_.

He wanted to ask her how she did it - he was curious. _What is it like to feel ice's true form? To breathe life into something?_ But he could not know for sure if she understood herself. "Cool," he forced himself to say. "Very nice."

Realizing he had not introduced himself, Kristoff walked up and held his arm out in greeting. "Hi, I'm Kristoff. Nice to meet you."

With a warm smile, Arthur shook his hand. "I'm Arthur. It's a pleasure to meet Arendelle's Ice-Master in person. Elsa tells me that you can help me with something."

"Really?" Kristoff widened his eyes in surprise. "Me?"

"Yep," Elsa nodded. "Arthur has come to Arendelle to see Grand Pabbie. I told him you knew where he lives."

"I do," Kristoff said slowly. He scratched his head. "Uh, but there's just a small problem."

Arthur cocked his head slightly to the side. "What might that be?"

"My family doesn't really um... They don't want to be found. By anyone."

For a heartbeat, Arthur's mind froze. He did not want to have arrived here, after hundreds of miles of travel, only to be turned around for a reason such as this. "I'm positive Pabbie will want to see me himself," he tried to say confidently. "My father and him were good friends."

Elsa drew back her head at what he said. "You never told me that. Did Pabbie ever go to Valhalla?"

_Way to go, idiot, _Arthur told himself. He was letting on more than he should. He had to play this safely. "Well," he said, hoping they would not pursue the subject much further, "it's, it's complicated. But they were close. In fact, I knew Pabbie when I was a little kid, about twenty years ago."

"Whoa, you did?" Kristoff asked. "Where did you meet him?"

"Look," Arthur said, his palms beginning to sweat, "I just need to see him, the sooner the better. Can you help me?"

Kristoff studied him for a while, looking intently at his eyes. "All right," he conceded. "I'll bring you there. I was actually planning to visit them tomorrow."

"What?" Anna cut in. "You're leaving _again_? But you just got back."

"You can come with us," Kristoff suggested, bringing a smile to Anna's face.

"That's a good idea," she grinned and turned to her sister. "Elsa, can I go with them?"

"You don't need to ask me anymore," Elsa laughed. Anna gave a whoop and hugged her sister.

Arthur was unsure how things would go with the Princess in tow, but he did not worry. Pabbie would be able to talk privately with him if needed. "So," he said. "When shall we leave?"

"I need to get this ice delivered first," Kristoff replied. "We'll set off for the Valley tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow morning it is, then," Elsa said.

* * *

_Arendelle - Northeast Roads - Present Day_

The three travelers had been on the move for a little over an hour. They were four if they counted Olaf. Six if Sven the reindeer and Mara were to be included. Kristoff's sled had been outfitted to travel on most types of terrain, so it slid on the forest floor with little problem. Arthur had doubted the need to bring along a sled for such a short journey, but Kristoff had told him his reasons.

"I'm bringing a few blocks of North Mountain ice with us. Some of the trolls like to make chilled drinks," he explained. And so Anna, Olaf, and him sat comfortably on the strong wooden seats as Sven trotted in front. Arthur was saddled by himself on Mara, moving alongside the trio. Kristoff and Anna chatted with him amiably as Olaf attempted to feed Sven an apple, which he had found in Mara's saddlebag.

"So, why do you want to see Grand Pabbie?" Kristoff asked.

"My father and Pabbie were close friends a long time ago. As far as I could tell, both of them were pretty involved in Valhalla's politics." Arthur paused for a short while, thinking of what to say next. He spoke again before Kristoff and Anna noticed his silence. "Basically, we've been having some problems where I live. I came to see Pabbie for some advice."

"Well, you've probably come to the right place, then," Anna replied. "Pabbie's saved my life more than once. Well, the second time, I had to kind of do it myself, but that's beside the point."

"More than once?" Arthur inquired.

"Yeah, I didn't know about the first time until like, a couple months ago. Elsa told me after her coronation. When I was five, or somewhere around that age, Elsa hit me in the head with her ice powers. It was an accident of course. My parents brought her to Pabbie, and he cleared my head of the bad magic."

"It was amazing," Kristoff agreed. "That was the first time I saw the trolls."

"And afterwards," Arthur said, "what happened?"

"Well, my parents were afraid of what else could happen if people found out about Elsa's powers," Anna answered sadly. "Elsa and I... kind of drifted apart."

Kristoff put a comforting arm around Anna. Arthur sensed that this was a topic she was not too happy to discuss. But he was on the verge of understanding something._  
_

"When did this happen, exactly?" He probed further.

"Oh, I don't know," Anna tried to remember. "Maybe thirteen years ago? Fourteen?"

It made sense. For the last two decades, the Council had been searching for the Sentinel of ice. Arendelle would have been one of the last to be investigated, since it was so far from Valhalla. But when the dignitaries did arrive, the King and Queen must have kept quiet for their daughter's safety.

"It's okay, though," Anna continued, still looking a bit glum. "Elsa and I've worked out almost everything now. But we still have a lot to catch up on."

Arthur had nothing to say. "The both of you look very happy when you're together," he commented, hoping he sounded encouraging.

"Thank you," Anna said gratefully. Arthur decided he had gone far enough, and changed the subject.

"So, Kristoff," he addressed the ice-deliverer, "how far do you think we have left?"

"It shouldn't take much longer," Kristoff nodded his head forwards. "We're almost there."

Arthur turned and beheld the entrance to the valley, veiled slightly by a thin mist. The grassy forest floor diminished as they drew closer, replaced by a sparse collection of boulders and barren trees. Mara gave forth a nervous whinny. _Doesn't look very welcoming_.

The fog thickened as the travelers entered the valley. Arthur resisted the urge to clear it with a wave of his hand. "What's with the fog?" he asked.

"Yeah," Anna said as well, "there wasn't any last time."

"My tribe makes the geysers do this sometimes, so they don't get unwanted visitors," Kristoff answered nonchalantly. "Don't worry about it."

They rode in silence for a minute.

Anna suggested that they sing a song, and the rest agreed, although Arthur was more reluctant to do so. Kristoff picked up a little mandolin and began to strum. Wanting to take part as well, Olaf stopped his fooling around with Sven and joined the happy duo.

The three companions broke out into a silly, nonsensical number, as Arthur grinned silently at the ridiculous lyrics. It was the story of a goblin who lived alone in a cave, befriending inanimate objects with every verse. Arthur had no idea what the words were, but he managed to sing along during the chorus after a few tries. In high spirits, the group sang lustily for a short while until Kristoff stopped playing, who glanced up and stowed his mandolin away. "We're here."

Arthur could see that the mist was subsiding. Before them lay a clearing, riddled with stones and dark green foliage. Along the edges were a combination of steppes, lined with layers of moss. _The Valley of the Living Rock_, he thought.

"Oh, you probably already know this since you've met Grand Pabbie," Kristoff mentioned. "But these guys don't like to show themselves at firs-"

The Ice-Master halted his sentence, speechless at what he saw.

"Whoa," Anna said. "I don't think I've ever seen them do this."

"That's because they don't," Kristoff answered her, still confused at what was in front of him. "Ever."

The entire congregation of trolls- every father, mother, daughter, and son, were gathered undisguised before them. They watched the group of travelers as they approached, not making a sound, their red and blue glowstones pulsing quietly, their innocent eyes soaking in the sight of the newcomers.

"Uh, hey guys," Kristoff called out to them. "why are all of you standing here like that?"

A female troll with a mature voice stepped forward and replied to him. "Grand Pabbie said you were coming."

"Really?" Kristoff sounded surprised. "How did he know?"

"Because of him." A tiny troll-child pointed towards Arthur.

Arthur jerked a thumb at himself, mystified. "Me?"

"Yeah," sounded another puny troll. "Who are you?"

"He is Arthur the Second, Sentinel of Fire, Guardian of Valhalla."

A hoarse voice from the back answered the question, echoing through the walls of the valley, silencing the rest of the tribe. Arthur remembered it - an old memory that had seemed forgotten, deep in the recesses of his mind.

The trolls parted to reveal Pabbie the Troll-King, aged and with a full mane of hair cresting his neck, dressed in a verdant cloak, and adorned with multiple emerald glowstones. The elderly troll waddled forward, tears rising in his eyes.

"And he is the son of Gareth Halcyon," Pabbie continued, his voice breaking, "the man who was my mentor, my captain, and my friend. And because you are here, I know that he is dead. "

* * *

_Valhalla - The Merchant Quarter Ports - 21 Years Prior_

The din of the harbor was almost deafening. The docks were filled with ships - fishing schooners, caravels, merchant vessels, their crews unloading cargo and chattering loudly. In recent days, the harbor had been swarmed with construction supplies, as part of the rebuilding effort. Half of the Merchant's Quarter, if not more, had been burned to the ground. The wall had been repaired, and the next step was to restore the inns, stores, and banks that had been destroyed._  
_

And so Gareth placed his feet on the wet wooden planks of a pier, his hand holding his son's, seeing off the Sentinel of Earth. Pabbie the Troll-King had removed the robes of his service for this journey home, choosing instead to wear the traditional regalia of his tribe. His hair grew in bronze tufts that formed a mane like that of a lion's around his neck. Behind him waited the captain of the _Ardent Beacon_, the master of the swift vessel that Gareth had commissioned for his comrade, his hands folded respectfully behind his back.

"When I arrive in the North, I will send Bulda here," Pabbie informed Gareth. "She is my daughter, and has the gift of Earth too."

"No," Gareth shook his head. "Let Bulda stay with your tribe."

Pabbie tilted his head in confusion. "But Valhalla-"

Gareth lifted his finger to silence the troll. He let go of Arthur's hand and knelt in front of his friend, lowering his voice. "Something is amiss in Valhalla," he said urgently. He glanced at the captain, making sure that only Pabbie could hear him. "And I think you know it as well. After the birth of Imperius, the Council has been grabbing for power."

"Then you and Arthur must leave Valhalla. Come with me," Pabbie whispered.

Gareth shook his head again. "We cannot abandon this city, no matter how much it has turned against us. There would only be one Sentinel left to defend Valhalla, and he is still a child."

"Imperius is the spawn of Councilor Albian," Pabbie argued. "An oddity that Valhalla's history has never seen before. Leave the Council and Valhalla to their own devices."

"And how would that make me a better man than them?" Gareth asked. "Than Albian and those scheming politicians and quarrelsome artisans?"

The truth of what he said frustrated Pabbie. "I don't know," he admitted. "But you risk too much staying here."

"It has to be done, Pabbie," Gareth said sadly. "Go back to the North, and keep your family safe. I have arranged for Captain Loken to take you to Baron's Watch. Hire another ship to take you further. _Do not take passage with Loken__ again_. He will report back to the Council of where you have sailed. Keep your destination hidden from him."

"Gareth," Pabbie said, a pained expression on his face, "do not do this to yourself. Think of your family."

Gareth choked back his emotions, pushing down the despair from the loss of his wife. "Mara's death has nothing to do with this."

"Not Mara," Pabbie replied. "How can you hope to raise your son if you are to keep the peace at the same time? Your lives will riddled with danger forever."

"I must take on this responsibility, Pabbie." Gareth had already made up his mind days before this. "There is no other way."

"And what of Arthur?"

Gareth looked sadly at his son, who was avidly watching the seagulls flap about. "I am the only one who can teach him to use his powers. He will have to stay. It is a greater cruelty to leave him untrained than to shield him from the corruption here.

"Arthur will have to carry this burden as I do. Not just for the fate of this city, but perhaps even for that of the entire world."

It was then that Captain Loken cleared his throat politely. "Sentinel Pabbie, the booms will be shutting in an hour. It is time to depart."

The troll nodded. He and Gareth said their goodbyes, and Arthur gave Pabbie a heartbroken hug.

"See you again?" He murmured with tears in his eyes.

Pabbie patted him softly on the head. "Maybe some day, but I will have to be gone for a long time, Arthur. For a long time."

"Say goodbye to Pabbie, Arthur," Gareth told his son.

"Good-bye, Pabbie."

"Good-bye, Arthur."

Pabbie turned from the child's embrace and advanced up the loading ramp into the _Ardent Beacon_. The crew cast off and the ship left the docks, creaking slightly in protest as it moved once again.

Gareth picked his son's hand up again, and squeezed it gently. As they watched the ship grow smaller and smaller in the horizon, Gareth could only think of Arthur. Valhalla was in great peril; its virtues rejected, its leaders becoming more unscrupulous as each day passed. In this dire hour, he could not leave his home. He would die for what this city stood for - a sacrifice he was willing to take, if need be.

But if things were to go as Gareth feared, and he had no doubt that they would, Arthur would have to suffer as well. The boy now giggled excitedly at the waves lapping against the dockside, oblivious to the danger that his father had just condemned him to.

_Heaven help him,_ he thought.


	6. We All Must Change

**Chapter 6: We All Must Change**

**Please Review**

* * *

_The Southern Wilderness - 300 Years Prior_

The cavern was dark and damp, its cold air stifling and uncomfortable. The three men moved quickly, the light of their lanterns glowing off the rocky walls as they trudged forward on the frost-covered floor. Their leader walked in front, wrapped tightly in his cloak, holding his light out far before him.

Lord Davon Argent was the Chief Explorer of Valhalla, tasked by the Council to head expeditions to the four corners of the world. He had scouted battlefields, discovered civilizations, and uncovered stores of precious stones. And in every one of his endeavors, Lord Davon had encountered unknown.

But not like this. He stopped in his tracks. "I don't see him anymore." He raised his lantern and scanned the dim area in front of him. It was another fork in the tunnels, one of the many they had encountered.

A grumpy sigh came from the man behind him. "Now where's the blighter gone?" Martin Lay was Valhalla's leading Alchemist, an apt companion for such a quest, but too unused to the hardships of travel and too familiar with the comforts of the city.

The third member of their group was the young Sentinel of Earth, a brown-haired youth who had just reached twenty years of age - the symbol of adulthood in Valhalla. Lord Davon had seen it fit to recruit him for this underground venture. But the Sentinel had been nervous the entire journey. He spoke now, in a pressing voice. "We should turn back, this place is evil."

_If the Sentinel of Earth is afraid to be underground, _Davon thought, _h__ow much more should I be?_ He shook his doubts from his head. The Council had insisted that he investigate this matter, and he would not disappoint.

"Calm yourself, Brendan," he said coolly. "There is nothing for us to fear."

"We never should have followed that creature," Brendan argued with bated breath.

"He had a devious look about him," Martin agreed.

"Enough," Davon said sharply, "do you think that I enjoy this as well? This cavern has a chill I do not like."

Their guide was a Southron Goblin. They had found him sitting at the entrance to the cave, next to a makeshift campsite, mumbling to himself in the snow. Goblins were timid creatures, and rarely showed themselves at all. But this one had introduced himself willingly. He was a small creature, as tall as the waist and pathetically skinny.

_This one's name is Hobbler,_ he croaked. _The teacher said you would be coming. Hobbler is to bring you inside_._  
_

The trio had been hesitant to trust him, but there was no other way to maneuver the caves. And so, they had kindled their lanterns and followed the scampering Hobbler.

And now he was nowhere to be seen. Lord Davon cursed himself for letting the goblin slip out of his sight.

"Goblin!" He called out into the darkness. "Where are you, creature?"

They waited for a few heartbeats, but there was no reply. _This farce has gone on long enough, _Davon thought angrily. He turned to Brendan. "It will take too long for us to find our way back to the entrance. The passages twist and turn like the coils of a snake. Can you forge an upwards path for us to leave?"

The Sentinel nodded. "I will try to." He extended his arms towards the rocky ceiling in front of him and flexed. Martin and Davon tensed, ready to dodge any falling debris.

"That will not be needed, masters." Hobbler materialized from one of the tunnels. Davon raised a hand to stop Brendan, and the Sentinel relaxed his arms.

"Where were you, goblin?" Davon demanded.

"Hobbler did not notice the masters had fallen so far behind," the creature spat.

"You move faster than your name suggests," Martin Lay put in.

The goblin diverted his attention to Brendan and shuffled towards him. "This one can move the earth? Yes, Hobbler can feel it. The teacher showed Hobbler how to feel. How to see."

"That's enough of your riddles," Lord Davon commanded. "Answer my questions. The miners reported strange happenings here. What is in this cave?"

"One must be patient, master," Hobbler replied with an ugly smile. "Hobbler will show you, Hobbler will show you."

"If there is even a _hint_ of trouble, I will not hesitate to end you," Brendan warned.

The goblin cackled quietly, not bothered by the Sentinel's threat. "Come with Hobbler, we are near." He turned to Lord Davon and looked into the man's eyes. "And don't fall behind."

The Chief Explorer harrumphed_, _but said nothing. Hobbler gave a toothy grin and began to walk down the tunnel again. The travelers followed suit in single file, for the passageway had narrowed. They forged onward, with Davon watching their guide closely, making sure that the goblin did not disappear into the dark.

The group paused again when Brendan stopped walking. Martin was bringing up the rear. He had to catch himself before he bumped into the young Sentinel.

"Brendan?" The alchemist's voice had the taste of irritation in it.

The Sentinel let out a large sigh. "I apologize. I just... I just think that we should not go any further."

Davon groaned. "What is it now?"

"I can't explain it," Brendan said slowly. "But somehow I... I'm feeling weak. It worsens the deeper we go. We should return to the entrance."

"Why does this one want to leave?" Hobbler interjected. "We are already here."

The goblin pointed to a tunnel in front of them. Davon could see that there was a hint of light glimmering at the end of it.

"That is our destination?" He asked Hobbler.

"Straight and forward," answered the goblin. "A hundred strides."

Martin patted Brendan on the shoulder. "See, lad, it is just ahead. Have courage and stay with us."

The Sentinel of Earth bit his lip, considering the options. He glanced at the Chief Explorer, who was rapping his knuckles against the icy walls. The man studied him with eyes as cold as the wintry air. Brendan swallowed a lump in his throat, then sighed again.

"All right," he finally decided. "Let us see what this cave has to show us."

"That's the spirit," Davon said dryly. Holding his lantern forward, he walked down the tunnel, with the rest of the party in tow. The luminescence at the end of the shaft grew brighter as they approached, until the three men of the expedition had to squint or cover their eyes. Hobbler was unaffected. The goblin whispered quietly to himself as he walked with the rest, his gaze fixed onto the light.

The source of brightness was not a rare stone or mineral, as Davon had expected. The tunnel opened into a large space, so tall that a hundred men could stand on each other and still not reach the ceiling, and vast enough to fit twice that number. When their eyes had adjusted to the glare, the men saw that it was a garden - lush and beautiful.

It was filled with flowers of all colors and size, the ground spread with healthy, green grass. A great white light was suspended high in the air, casting its glow like that of the sun.

But it was the stone that caught their attention. Hovering on a grassy rise in the middle of the meadow, it emanated a radiance that comforted the three travelers. The rock was massive, with the radius of a dozen horses clustered together, and it rotated slowly above the hill. They stared at it in wonder, mouths agape and holding their lanterns dumbly at their sides. It was Hobbler who broke them from their spell.

"Come, come," he beckoned to the travelers as he began to waddle up the hill. "Hobbler has shown you the rock, as teacher said to. Now Hobbler will show you what it really is."

The group tailed their guide, their eyes still transfixed on the rock. When they reached the crest of the hill, Martin moved forward to touch the floating mass.

"Careful, Martin," Brendan cautioned, "that rock is evil. I can feel it."

The alchemist ignored the young man's words. "A mineral that suspends itself. By the Guardians, it is amazing." He stroked the pivoting rock in awe.

Davon turned to Hobbler. "What is this thing?"

"The rock floats. This is all Hobbler knows. The teacher says it changes men. Men like him." Hobbler pointed at Brendan with a bony finger. The Sentinel looked uncomfortable.

Martin addressed Davon. "I must bring this back to Valhalla for further analysis. The other alchemists and I will find out everything there is to know. The Council will have its answer soon."

The Chief Explorer gave a wry smile. "If this goblin will let us take it."

Hobbler gave a curt bow. "It is yours. The teacher told Hobbler so. It is for the humans, he said. The ones who move the earth, and shape the ice, and call the winds, and breathe fire hot and burning."

Davon nodded at the goblin's words. "Brendan, carve a tunnel large enough for us to return to the exit with this thing. And see if you can transport it with us."

The Sentinel raised his hands toward the tunnel and took a deep breath. He exhaled strongly, and drew his arms apart, willing the cave walls to widen the shaft.

But nothing happened. He blinked in surprise and looked at his hands. "I don't understand," he said. "I did it perfectly."

"Try again," Davon instructed. Brendan obeyed, striking his arms forward forcefully this time.

Again, the earth did not move. The Sentinel repeated the actions a third time - a fourth, a fifth, a sixth. Each time with more effort, until he began to grunt in frustration. But the walls did not respond. He turned wildly to the hovering stone and laid an accusing finger toward it. "It is the rock!" He cried. "There is evil in it, I swear!"

"Calm yourself, Sentinel," Davon reprimanded him. He diverted his focus to the rock. "This stone is unlike anything Valhalla has seen before. As leader of the Expedition, I hereby declare it to be named the Argent Rock - after I, the man who discovered it. We shall take it back to the Council and present our findings to them."

"We will need to return first with a team of miners and craftsmen," Martin pointed out, "to widen the tunnel for it."

"Indeed," Davon agreed. "Let us depart now."

"No, no," Brendan shook his head, "we cannot bring this with us. Can you not see that it is evil?"

"We have no choice," Davon said with certainty. "you of all people should understand. Whatever this rock is, one thing is clear. Magic is no longer what it seems."

At his words, the group fell silent, unsure whether they should be horrified or in awe. Hobbler stood amongst them, glancing from side to side, observing their faces. Davon spoke again, with the clarity of a leader commanding his men.

"We return to the entrance immediately," he announced. "The town of Brightholt is traveling distance from the entrance. We will find laborers and miners there."

Martin Lay bobbed his head obediently; Brendan decided to speak his piece. "I will not come back to this place."

Davon understood. "Nor will I ask you to. You shall depart at once for Valhalla after we have found suitable men for the task." He looked down at Hobbler. "Can you take us here again?"

Their guide bowed once again. "Hobbler will show you the way back out, and Hobbler will show you the way back in. All the masters need to do is ask."

He rose and made his way down the hillock, but Davon and Martin waited a few seconds for Brendan.

The Sentinel of Earth gave the Argent Rock one last, hard look. Its soothing glow had disappeared. Now it gleamed mockingly, its cruel light as bitter as death.

* * *

_Arendelle - The Valley of the Living Rock - Present Day_

Arthur sat comfortably on a makeshift stone chair, his neck covered in the wreaths of blossoms the tribe had given him. The Northern trolls had celebrated the arrival of Pabbie's "special guest" by producing a series of flower garlands and a small dance. After the commotion had died down, Bulda took Anna, Kristoff, and the others for some refreshment, while Pabbie brought Arthur to a secluded spot so they could converse in private.

They had climbed up a crude stairway, ascending until they reached an elevated rocky platform that overlooked the valley below. From their perch, Arthur could see the rest of the group from Arendelle, tiny figures drinking and eating at a stone table. A spring of water gushed out from somewhere, running across the terrace and spilling over the edge, into a large pool far underneath. Pabbie brandished a beaker from under his tunic and filled it from the stream. He produced a vial of honey and added a few drops, then gave the water to Arthur.

Arthur thanked him and drank. The Northern troll constructed an earthen seat for himself.

"You must be wondering how I knew you were coming," Pabbie spoke. Arthur nodded his head, still drinking. And so Pabbie continued. "I could sense you from a mile off. Your magical energy has always been strong."

Smiling, Arthur looked up from his cup. "So the sages often told me."

Pabbie groaned as he settled into his chair. "So, your father is dead."

Arthur remembered the tears that Pabbie had shed at their first meeting. "How did you know?"

"Before I left Valhalla, when you were still a child, Gareth and I had an agreement." Pabbie clasped his hands and looked at Arthur in the eye. "I was never to make contact with him, or with you, for my own safety. There was only one thing that your father said was the exception - his death. You were to be sent North to me, if that were to happen."

"And it did," Arthur said sadly.

With a mournful sigh, Pabbie rubbed the ache away from his knees. "How did it happen?"

"By order of the Council," Arthur replied factually.

"What for?"

"Crimes he did not commit. Bribery. Cheating. Harassment. Murder. Adultery." He spat the last word out disdainfully. He realized that Pabbie was looking expectantly at him, so he continued.

"Imperius arrived at our house with the warrant for his arrest, leading a company of crossbowmen. I prepared to fight, but my father stopped me, insisting it was just a misunderstanding. At first, I believed it too. But when they placed him in the deeper dungeons, with no explanation, we began to understand that it wasn't an accident.

"They gave me one visit, and when I went to see him he told me to go North once I had the chance, and find you. I never spoke to him again."

"What of his trial?"

Arthur laughed bitterly. "It was the biggest farce I had ever seen. They summoned witnesses - a pack of fools, and they piled lie after lie on him. Artisans, politicians, laborers, merchants, even fat old Councilor Zahar himself."

Pabbie adjusted his cloak. "But surely there would have been a defense? Your father has saved hundreds of lives. Someone would have come to speak for him."

Arthur shook his head. "No one came. The Council never gave us a chance. Even I wasn't allowed to speak. So when the judgment arrived, the sentence was unanimous. They even had some people clap," Arthur said scornfully.

Pabbie became quiet. "And... he was executed?"

Arthur's tone turned soft and solemn. "Yes. The next day they tied him to the Argent Rock, and read his crimes to him." He stared off into the distance, recalling the memories. "They tied him there... and they made me watch. They made me watch, the vile churls, as they thrust a spear into his stomach. And when that didn't kill him, they made me watch as they struck him a second time. And a third." There was no expression on his face, but his voice trembled with emotion.

He raised a clenched fist and shook it lightly. "I... just wanted to stop them. But what could I do?" He hung his head in shame.

"What could I do?" He repeated quietly. "The Argent Rock was there. What could I do? And so I stood, watching, no different from the rest, with no courage to shout that he was innocent, no will to raise a hand to help him. Like... some craven, like some child.

"Then they made me say my vows. And I did. In front of everyone, in the very same room where he died. I swore allegiance to the Council, with his body still strapped there like some slaughtered pig. And they made me the new Sentinel, just to spite me, like the cruel villains they are.

Resigned, he creased his brow in anguish. "How can someone have so much power, but still be so _powerless_?"

With grief-stricken eyes, Pabbie stretched out a hand and laid it on Arthur's bowed head. "I am sorry. So, so sorry."

The young man looked up and gave a sad smile. "I mourned until I couldn't mourn anymore. I knew afterwards that I had to leave immediately. So I told my friend, Percival Marks, and we hired a ship in secret to sail North. We arrived in Frankland, where I heard you were in Arendelle."

Pabbie nodded understandingly. "And now, here you are. I thought that if you were to come at all, you would be a child, in need of protection. I see that is not the case."

The despairing mood in Arthur seeped away, now that they had switched the subject. "I didn't come here for protection. My father sent me here to ask for your help."

"My help?" said Pabbie, startled. "What for?"

"The Council has grown too bold, Pabbie," Arthur leaned closer. "And too powerful. We need to act. Take back Valhalla for the people. Reforge the Council, as it was meant to be."

The troll was silent for a heartbeat. Arthur could see that he was thinking carefully. "You do understand what you are suggesting?"

"Clearly."

Pabbie placed a hand on his forehead and massaged it. "It will not be easy."

"I never said it would be."

Once again, the troll said nothing for a few moments. He continued to rub his temple. "Valhalla's armies are vast. And I will assume that Imperius stands in our way. We will have to plan, meticulously and cautiously."

"There is another matter," Arthur said quietly. "Queen Elsa."

"You _have_ spoken with her?"

The Sentinel of Fire nodded positively in response. Pabbie thought for a while more. "We will need her help, and hopefully, we can convince her easily enough. Have you told her?"

Arthur shook his head. "I didn't know if I should have."

"Then I think," Pabbie rose from his seat and stretched his back, "I will have to return to Arendelle with you. We are little more than strangers to the Queen. It will be easier if both of us spoke with her at the same time."

"But your tribe..."

"I know," Pabbie said with a sad sigh. He made his way over to the edge of the platform, and gazed down on the view of the Valley. Arthur left his chair and joined the troll. Far below, the members of his tribe ate and drank and danced with fervor, in their usual celebratory spirit. Dozens of troll-children played joyfully in the waterfall pool, splashing about and squealing in delight. Arthur smiled when he saw Mara in the water as well, with three tiny trolls clinging to her back. She neighed goodheartedly and did a small jump, making the troll-children laugh gleefully. On the other side of the valley, a group of young males rolled around a large ring, racing each other. Their lush green habits whirled into a grassy blur as they spun madly, spraying clouds of dust in their wake. Arthur watched in amusement as Olaf the snowman wobbled after them hopelessly, his head bobbing in an awkward fashion.

"It tears apart my heart to leave," said Pabbie forlornly. "I love them all, from the youngest child to the weakest elder. They are so safe, so innocent."

"Pabbie..." Arthur was afraid the troll would change his mind. _And how can I blame him? _he thought. _He loses so much by helping me.  
_

"But," continued Pabbie with confidence in his eyes, "we must all make sacrifices, for the sake of this world. And so we all must change. Your father taught me that. And if anyone has shown it in their life at all, it would be him. I will prepare to leave with you. But first, come and have some food and drink below."

"I'm famished," Arthur said gratefully. The two of them turned around and descended the stony stairs, amid the gentle singing of the summer birds.

* * *

_Arendelle - The Valley of the Living Rock - Present Day_

A cool breeze swept through the valley. The overgrown moss on the ground and rocks nearby vibrated quaintly at the wind. Princess Anna, seated on a stone chair, stretched herself casually, her stomach full from the lunch the trolls had provided. There had been an assortment of exotic fruits and funny-looking cakes, all of which were delicious. Beside her, Kristoff was chatting amiably with one of his friends - a middle-aged male troll with a gruff voice. Was it Gubba? Or Dubba? Anna had no idea. With all the trolls looking so alike, she had given up trying to tell them apart, let alone remember their names. She looked around at the tables around her, which were filled with feasting trolls. They gobbled up their food with no remorse, pausing only to wipe their chins hurriedly or ask someone to pass them more lunch.

One of the troll-children, a little girl, scurried up and held her arms up. Anna smiled and scooped her up onto her lap. "Ow!" She yelped as the babe thudded soundly onto her. "You guys are _so_ _heavy_!"

"You're just really light." The child placed both of her hands on Anna's face and squished her cheeks together, making the Princess's lips pucker like a fish. "Are you gonna marry Kristoff?" She asked in a high-pitched voice.

"Em, yeah. Maybe?" Replied Anna, her voice muffled, "At least, I hope so. Sometime in the future, I guess." Anna hadn't ever thought that she would break her relationship with Kristoff, but she was still unsure about the issue of marriage. Her previous experience with Prince Hans had altered her view of the concept entirely, and Kristoff seemed as though he was happy to take things slowly.

"Aunt Bulda says you guys should marry already," the troll-girl played around with Anna's cheeks, rolling her hands around them. "Or else one of you might die if it's too late."

"Wait, what?" Anna blinked in surprise. She let the comment pass. Trolls often said things without thinking. Kristoff broke into laughter with his friend. He turned to Anna with a grin.

"Did you hear what Zubba said?" He chuckled.

"Uh, I don't think so." _So it's ZUBBA._

The blonde-haired ice-master was still giggling like a child. "He said, he said Arthur looks like a..." He started guffawing again. "A Muktuk!"

Anna laughed nervously. "Ha ha." She glanced from side to side. "Um, what's a Muktuk?"

Kristoff and Zubba looked incredulously at her. "You mean you don't know what a Muktuk is?" asked Kristoff.

"No..." Anna said slowly. "Should I?"

"It's..." Kristoff began, but waved an arm casually. "Ah, never mind."

"Well," Anna said with a mischievous smile, "I think Elsa likes him."

Kristoff narrowed his eyes. "What? No... There's no way."

"I'm her_ sister_," insisted Anna, "I think I would know better than you."

Kristoff stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I guess he _is_ a bit weird," he reasoned.

"Elsa's not weird," Anna said defensively. A startled Kristoff held his hands up in surrender.

"I never said she was," he spoke quickly. He continued when he saw that Anna was not taking him seriously."But you have to admit, he did seem a little..." Kristoff protruded his lips and gave a lofty pose.

Anna laughed. "And what was that Pabbie said about him? Some_ weird_ military soldier thing."

"I know, right?" Kristoff spread his arms out wide. But Anna could see that he was a slight bit jealous of the visitor, she supposed that was because of the welcome the trolls had given him. She was snapped out of her thoughts by a furtive whisper from Zubba.

"Hey guys, here he comes."

True enough, Pabbie and Arthur appeared from behind a tangle of bushes. Kristoff rose from his seat. He hadn't yet had a chance to greet his grandfather figure today. "Grand Pabbie!" He called as he walked over to the troll and gave him a hug. Pabbie returned the embrace with a parental smile.

"It's good to see you again, Kristoff," he said, patting Kristoff on the back.

Bulda, the daughter of Pabbie, emerged from another collection of shrubs, carrying a stone tray of chilled drinks in clay beakers. "You're just in time for some icy goodness." They thanked her as she handed each of them a beaker. Arthur and Pabbie took a seat at the table.

The troll-child on Anna's lap became restless. "Is your name Arthur?" She quipped and pointed at the red-headed foreigner.

"Yes, it is," nodded Arthur affirmatively.

"Kristoff and Anna say you're weird."

Zubba roared with laughter. Anna and Kristoff both cringed, but Arthur seemed relatively undisturbed by the comment. He chuckled lightly and leaned over to the little girl.

"Oh really? And what else did Kristoff and Anna say?"

"They're gonna get married. Before they die."

"Whoa-kay!" Anna said rapidly and swung the child off of her lap. "That's quite enough outta you." She poked the girl on the nose. The troll-child giggled and trundled off to play with her other friends.

"So," said Kristoff awkwardly, trying to change the topic, "um... what did you guys talk about?"

"Oh, serious matters," replied Pabbie.

"Serious matters," Anna nodded her head approvingly. "Sounds... serious."

Arthur picked up a piece of fruit and bit into it. "Pabbie's going to come back with us to Arendelle," he said in between bites.

Kristoff blinked in surprise. He looked at Pabbie. "You _what_?"

"He's right, I will be returning with you," Pabbie said. "There are important things I will need to help Arthur with there. I thought it best to accompany you back."

Anna couldn't believe it either. "But what about your tribe?"

Zubba and the rest of the trolls also began to speak out in confusion.

"Please, my friends," Pabbie raised a hand to stop them. "I will explain everything at tonight's Gathering."

The tribe members present quietened down. "All right, folks," Bulda called out. "You heard Grand Pabbie. We'll talk about this tonight. Back to business." The trolls nodded obediently, and soon things resumed as normal. Anna glanced at Kristoff. A small frown was present on his face, but he seemed more puzzled than upset at Pabbie's announcement.

"Come on," she grabbed his arm, "let's go find Sven." His disapproving look disappeared, and he gave her a warm kiss on the head.

"Okay."

They bade Arthur a short goodbye - who returned the farewell, saying he would see them tonight - and left their table.

Anna had been to the Valley a few times, but she had yet to explore its entirety. Now, Kristoff led her by the hand through a path she had no recollection of. They stepped gingerly over a myriad of stubby plants and scattered rocks.

"Are you feeling alright?" asked Anna as they walked.

Kristoff shrugged. "I don't really know." He stopped and looked at her. "My tribe's just been acting weird. First they... you know, when we get here they're all standing up for a... a _stranger_. There's no 'Kristoff's home!' anymore. And now Grand Pabbie decides to pack up and leave."

"You're annoyed because your tribe didn't say 'Kristoff's home'?" Anna asked teasingly.

"What? No. It's just that... since they adopted me, Grand Pabbie's always been there."

"You'll still get to see him."

"I guess you're right," Kristoff agreed. "But it's just that my tribe's been so stable and strong. And now that he's leaving, I don't know how things are going to change."

She was unsure of what to say. Anna had always been a bit funky with words. So she hugged him instead, placing her head on his chest and wrapping her arms around him. She felt him start in surprise, but he calmed down quickly and returned the embrace.

"I still haven't forgotten about your birthday," he said meekly. She smiled and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

"Come on," she said once again, "let's go find Sven."

* * *

**Author's Note: I am aware that my story will have historical discrepancies in it, especially in terms of military warfare or technology. According to some sources, Frozen is set around the 1700s. I will try to keep to this time period for the Present Day sections, but it is likely that much of my story will not be historically accurate. There _are_ inaccuracies in the movie, anyway. Also, for viewers that are more into romance, I am diving into that soon, although I am not very experienced in that category.**

**I also have been penning the greater part of this fanfiction late into the night or in the wee hours of the morning, so I apologize for any poor quality in my writing.**

**Please Review.**


	7. Treason and Treachery

**Chapter 7: Treason and Treachery**

**Author's Note: I broke the trend of having three sections per chapter in this one, because I felt that the following four sections worked better together instead. I don't particularly enjoy this mode of publishing, but the content in this chapter just felt more cohesive if I did it this way. I plan to revert back to my original style in the next chapter. Please Review. I have fewer reviews than favorites/follows, which I don't think is supposed to happen. You have my thanks if you already have taken the time to write a comment.**

* * *

_Castle Arendelle - The Library - Present Day_

Queen Elsa sat in the Royal Library, snuggled up to a cushion with a book in her hands. The room was one of the smallest in the palace, excluding the bathrooms and closets. But there was a charm to it that Elsa enjoyed. Her mother had been an avid reader and book collector, and so the shelves were filled with novellas and poems and epics. The notion of a chandelier would have been laughable for such a small anteroom, and since it was windowless, all light came from a few candle-lit lamps, which were held up at head-level by thin iron stands.

The floor was not carpeted, like most of the rest of the palace. There was one chair, a delicate thing with red plush, and armrests that ended in the carvings of lion's heads, and it sported the crest of Arendelle on its back. It was accompanied by a sizable chestnut desk made of rare elm, imported from a far away land. A lantern, with the intricate design of metal spires coiling around the glass cage, had been installed on top of this table. This was the workplace of her father, should he have needed to study a book or sign a treatise.

It had only been three and a half years since her parents had passed. The news of their deaths had crushed Elsa, she suspected even more so than it had affected her sister. The days between then and her coronation were the loneliest in her life. There had been few tears. Just pain. And a feeling of emptiness. She thought that things would have changed for the better after she was free to be with Anna and her people, but now she cried herself to sleep more often than before. There were nightmares of her 'bad days', the times she had hurt Anna, or her father and mother. She would wake up trembling, finding that her room had frosted over, with crystal spikes of ice protruding from the walls.

In the morning, though, her spirits would lift, and life in Arendelle became delightful. Today, there was little to do. Now that her guest had departed with Anna and Kristoff, the palace saw little activity.

And so Elsa sat, enraptured by the literature in her hands. It was an adaptation from Frankland, about a young woman who falls in love with a man who had been turned into a monstrous beast. That was true love to Elsa. She was glad that Anna had learnt her lesson about Hans, though she wished it had happened another way. _Love must be built, not found and squeezed dry by desire_, she thought as she leafed through the pages. It had been something she read in a wise-man's book when she was younger. She drifted through the novel happily, until a shadow appeared on the smooth wooden floor in front of her.

Elsa looked up to see Kai standing in the doorway. He bowed apologetically. "If you will excuse me, Your Majesty. A letter has just arrived."

She got to her feet. "From who?"

The steward shrugged lightly. "It arrived by carrier pigeon."

"Carrier pigeon?" Elsa said in surprise. This sort of method was a first for her. She had heard of it before, but as far as she knew Arendelle had never received letters this way. She placed her book on the ground. It would have to wait.

Kai said nothing, but merely produced the letter from behind his back. Gingerly, Elsa took it from him and read the outside.

_To Arthur Halcyon the Second, _it said, in meticulous cursive. Elsa inspected the paper. It was unsealed, simply obscuring its contents by being folded neatly and wrapped with light string. Elsa removed its binding carefully and opened it.

"Your Majesty?" said Kai, slightly uncomfortable.

"It's fine, Kai," Elsa reassured him. "I just need to find out more about our visitor." She smoothed the letter and read.

_Dear Arthur,_

_Things have not been going according to plan at Baron's Watch. We arrived safely yesterday, and I parted ways with Captain Bors. I have been scouring the port for a ship that will bring me South, but none of the captains are willing to risk such a long journey, for fear of the autumn storms. It seems that we have mistimed our approach._

___Of course, you know that I will be visiting my mother first, as we agreed, and then move on to the task ahead._

_I will have to stay at Baron's Watch for the next few weeks, and as you can probably surmise that the recruitment will have to wait until I can depart. Do not be distressed, I have sent word to Louis and Count Gaston in Frankland, and our friends in Endwall. They have agreed to discuss matters with me once I can meet with them. I estimate that we will be able to raise a force of fifty thousand, if not more._

_The attack will have to be swift. For reasons that I am sure you know, I cannot specify the location of assault. But do not forget that they have magic on their side. We will need to isolate that fight from the rest of the troops._

_I leave you with a warning. I trust you are making progress with the Queen. Be careful, if we are to unseat this power we must be cautious every step of the way. They have friends in Frankland, Endwall, Corona, Etalia, and others as well. There are few people that I can trust at Baron's Watch, so I had to resort to carrier pigeon. The bird will know its way back. Send your reply with it._

_Your faithful friend and servant,  
Percival Marks of Highfell_

Elsa breathed a sigh of distress and rubbed her forehead with a frown.

"Your Grace, is everything alright?" Kai asked with concern.

She handed the letter to him. He received it and read with inquisitive eyes, and when he was done he folded the parchment slowly. "Do you think...?"

"What should I do, Kai?" asked Elsa.

He placed his hands behind his back in contemplation. "If this is what we suspect it is, we will have to take action. The consequences if we do not would be dire. We must ensure that this Arthur is detained and kept under guard."

The Queen closed her eyes and took a deep breath, thinking carefully. This was something she was still unused to - protecting her kingdom "We'll wait for them to return from the Valley," she ordered. "Put all the guards on alert."

Kai bowed. "I'll do it personally." He turned to go.

"Wait," Elsa said, stopping him. "If we _do _arrest him... what if they really attack us?"

The steward stood tall and cocked his head slightly backwards in a proud fashion. "Then we will show them that Arendelle won't be taken over without a fight." He bowed once more and was about to leave when he halted himself once again. "And, if I may say so, if anything were to go wrong... we do have you," he added. With a final bow, he left the library, leaving Elsa alone in the room.

_Let's hope it never comes to that_, she thought.

* * *

_Arendelle - The Valley of the Living Rock - Present Day_

The sun kissed the earth and sank into the horizon - a long, intimate embrace. From the center of the Valley, Bulda could see its orange light dissolving lazily. Dinnertime had been over for almost an hour. It was time for the Gathering. She picked up a hollow, carved stick and rapped it on a large boulder with special markings on it. _Ratat-tat-tat_. The pattern rumbled through the rock and resonated into the ground. A few trolls appeared from various directions, rolling quickly and assembling near the boulder she was standing next to. Bulda continued to drum out the sequence as more members of her tribe, young and old, wheeled in and popped up around her.

Kristoff and Anna materialized as well, with Olaf and Sven in tow. Bulda smiled and sighed in contentment as she saw her adopted ward with the Princess. She liked to think that their relationship was of her doing. But her smile vanished as her father rolled into sight. The mass of tribe members had divided so that he could approach the boulder, as was their custom. The new visitor, Arthur, was not with him.

The strange foreigner was standing at the back of the congregation of trolls, next to his horse. His left arm rested on her neatly cut mane, which he stroked absentmindedly. Pabbie unfurled himself and gestured to Bulda. She knocked out one last rhythm on the boulder, then placed the stick on the ground. With grandeur, Pabbie raised his hands and spoke to the listening tribe. The Gathering had begun.

"My fellow tribespeople," he called out. "Some of you may remember me as your leader for the past twenty years. Some of you may remember my father, Kaggar Greenstripe, who served as your leader before I did. And still some will remember his father, who served us more than sixty years ago."

A few of the more ancient trolls raised their hands in acknowledgement of Pabbie's last statement, grinning from ear to ear. A number of them were older than Pabbie himself. He bowed and continued on. "It appears now that I must leave you. There are pressing matters in the Kingdom of Arendelle that I am required to attend. So I will be leaving Bulda, my daughter, in charge of the tribe when I am gone." He glanced at Bulda. "I have complete faith in her, and you must listen to her as you have listened to me."

The surrounding trolls murmured excitedly. A few of them gave Bulda a thumbs-up. As the chief's only child, she had always been expected to fill her father's position. But Bulda had never thought she would be doing it so soon. New chiefs were usually appointed because the previous ones had either passed away or were unable to serve any longer.

"It's just temporary, though," she assured the tribe. She turned to Pabbie. "Right?"

Her father opened and closed his fists slowly, something he did when he was nervous. "Maybe, maybe not."

His statement rankled the tribe members, and the chattering intensified. A male troll near the back voiced their concern. "What does that mean?" He asked loudly.

"It means that these are dark times," Pabbie said resignedly, "and unless I act now, we could all be in great danger."

The Gathering was silent. The words were still sinking in. Some of the children shuffled about in a restless manner. Then a loud shout dashed the stillness. "Three Cheers for Grand Pabbie!" It was one of the youngsters. The rest of the trolls broke from their spell, jumping around with goofy grins on their faces.

"Hip-hip-" A troll called.

"HURRAY!" The rest yelled with gusto, pumping their fists in the air.

"Hip-hip... HURRAY!"

Bulda joined in as well. It was a good distraction from the troubling announcement. When they had finished their impromptu salute, a hearty roar rose into the skies, and the trolls began to clap fervently for their leader.

To the side, Arthur shook his head with a smile and clapped too. Pabbie bowed his head, accepting their support, and picked up the stick from the ground. He knocked a distinct beat on the central boulder, signifying that the Gathering was over.

Whooping with joy at their release, most of the troll-children scurried away to jam in an hour of play before their bedtime. The rest joined the adults as they moved forward to say farewell to their leader.

Pabbie received each one openly, some with a pat on the back, or a gentle hug, or a simple word.

"Good-bye, Grand Pabbie," the younger ones said, though some because they felt obligated to.

"Good-bye, Chief," the older trolls said with heartfelt sadness.

Bulda could see that her father was close to tears. She stood by him and placed a hand on his shoulder, greeting each approaching troll with a smile. When they were finished, the tribe dispersed, to do their evening chores or to prepare for the night, leaving Arthur, Pabbie, Bulda, Kristoff, Olaf, Sven, and Mara standing near the boulder.

As the trolls departed, Arthur moved toward Pabbie and spoke in a hushed whisper. "Why did you tell them that?"

His voice was soft, but Bulda could still hear his words if she listened carefully

Her father looked up at the new visitor. "Better for them to know now, than when the armies of Valhalla come marching through."

"You say that as though we'll fail."

"Will we?" Pabbie gazed intently into the foreigner's eyes.

Arthur grew quiet.

"I'm not sure," Bulda heard him say.

* * *

_Valhalla - The Inner Sanctum - 30 Years Prior_

The Inner Sanctum. Polished white marble floors and golden statues and iron doors. Home to the privileged, refuge to all. Or at least that was what it should be. Now, as he walked through the City Square, he could see only the rich and powerful strolling around. He watched them intently as they whispered gossip or went about their business. They flaunted their jewels, their fancy clothes, their bizarre hairstyles. It made him sick.

Some of them stared at him, but there was not even a single flicker of recognition in their eyes. He continued walking, shrouded in his hooded cloak, the bottom half of his face obscured by a black mask. His black leather boots, worn from years of travel and hard terrain, groaned in protest as he crossed the plaza.

The city's center was huge - it took him a good fifteen minutes to make his way through, even with his rapid stride. But finally his destination came into sight. It was an ivory limestone structure, modest and small compared to the surrounding buildings, but still splendid and clean. The entrance was accompanied by pairs of alabaster pillars, stretching high into the ceiling and firmly onto the ground.

A set of pearly-white stone stairs led up to the door. He climbed these and placed his hand on the door, giving it a solid push. Its hinges were well oiled, and it swung open smoothly. Before him lay a hall of rooms, furnished with lacquered brown tables and gilded chairs against its walls. The hallways were the same color as the building's exterior, a pure and blank white, save for the gray and black tiles that formed mosaics on the floor.

He entered, walking quietly, glancing into each room that he passed, but saw no one. He did not stop, instead resuming his path down the hall, until he began to hear a smattering of voices. Following them, he neared the end and turned right. There was a large room with a great wooden dining table and a set of benches, on which which three figures sat - a man, a woman, and a short troll. They were laughing at something, some joke that one of them must have made.

As he stepped through the doorway, they heard him and swung their heads around, the amusement fading from their lips. He stood silently as the trio looked him over from top to bottom curiously. It was only after he removed his mask and hood that one of them spoke.

It was the man, a finely clothed youth with bright red hair and a handsome face. He stood up from his chair, and his voice held hints of disbelief. "Carthus?"

"Hello, Gareth," the cloaked man replied.

The two others got up as well and stared at him. He remembered the woman immediately.

"Mara, it's been too long," Carthus greeted her. She blinked at him at first, then gathered herself and inclined her head towards him.

"Likewise," she said politely. Like Gareth, her long, flowing hair was unnaturally colored, but silvery white instead of his crimson. She was dressed strikingly as well, in a gown of azure and lilac. Mara had been a child when he last saw her. He could see now that she had changed. Adulthood gave her an air of elegance and beauty.

Next, Carthus turned his attention to the troll, and scanned the short figure with interest. They had never met before, and Carthus was inexperienced with such a race. The grayish-blue skin, their minuscule height, and beastlike hair were foreign to him. "And this is the newfound Sentinel of Earth?" He indicated the troll with an extended hand.

But Gareth ignored his question. "Where have you been?" he demanded.

"Wherever I needed to go," shrugged Carthus. "Mostly to the North, if you must know."

"You were gone for seven years."

"Time that I needed to take," he reasoned.

"I think it is perhaps not a matter of where you went, or how long you took," said Mara. "What we are concerned about is _why _you left."

Gareth agreed. "The Council of Five searched everywhere for you."

Carthus waved his hand dismissively. "I would not pay them any attention if I were you. The Council is a pack of idiots."

"Idiots that we take our orders from," Mara reminded him.

A smile crept onto Carthus's face. "No longer," he said slyly. From the way they looked at him, he could tell that an explanation was needed. "You ask why I left Valhalla unannounced," he began. "Well, I shall tell you. Three centuries ago, our Chief Explorer and his men discovered a remarkable substance, one that changed magic forever, and tipped the balance of power in the Council's hands."

"The Argent Rock," said the troll. He had been so silent that Carthus had wondered if he spoke at all.

"Yes," Carthus replied. "The Argent Rock was placed in the Inner Sanctum, where the Council watches over it."

"We know our history," Gareth spoke up, "why are you telling us this?"

"Because since then, the Council has used this substance to violate the laws of Valhalla," Carthus said. "You all know this to be true."

"You speak treason," Mara breathed.

"And what if I do?" Carthus asked her, raising his head imposingly. "The Argent Knights will come and take me away? There are only four of them."

"And one of you," countered Mara. "It will only take one Argent Blade to fell a Sentinel."

"No more," Carthus repeated triumphantly. "Seven years ago, I set out to discover a way to end the tyranny of the Council."

The others in the room stepped back slightly, uncomfortable with his words. But Carthus ignored their unease and continued on. "And after my travels, I have found it. A substance just like the Argent Rock, only with the power to do the opposite."

Gareth was surprised. "You found something that would undo the Argent Rock's strength?"

Carthus grinned, "The Council cannot cower behind it any longer."

"I'll hear no more." Mara crossed her arms and turned away.

The troll withdrew as well. "I think it would be best if I did not discuss this any further," he dipped his head, but his voice held no warmth in it.

Carthus studied Gareth carefully. The Sentinel of Fire was hesitating, but in the end, he took a deep breath and shook his head.

"You as well?" Carthus said, slightly disappointed. Before he left Valhalla, he knew that Gareth had been resistant to the Council's ways. But the red-headed Sentinel seemed to have mellowed over the years.

"I have changed." The younger man would not meet his gaze. "To preserve the order in Valhalla, we must obey the Council."

"I see you have let them whittle you down until you are nothing but a blithering child," Carthus mocked. "You are a _Sentinel_, not the slave of the Council."

"Don't listen to him, Gareth," warned Mara.

But Carthus knew he was unable to convince him. The youth instead pressed his argument further. "We serve the The Council because _it_ serves Valhalla. That is how the law is."

"And do you see that with each growing day?" Carthus rebuffed him quickly, "Immediately upon my return I discover that the common folk are not even allowed into the Inner Sanctum, one of many grievances that we must answer."

"It is not our right," Gareth asserted.

"It is more than our right! It is our _duty_!" Carthus cried angrily. "And you lie here, like the craven slug you are, while the Council oppresses the people!"

"Please, Carthus," implored Gareth quietly, "do not do this."

Carthus took a step back and shook his head. He had expected this from them. "I suppose it does not matter," he said with dangerous eyes. "You can't stop me."

Before any of them could react, Carthus pulled back his shoulders, and with a burst of energy vaporized into a gale of wind. The three others yelled in surprise. Whipping about furiously, he shot out of the room and billowed through the hallway. He could hear the protesting shouts of Gareth chasing after him as he blasted out of the entrance and climbed higher and higher into the air.

Below him, Carthus could see the onlookers pointing up at the silver gust of wind in the sky. He hurtled toward the Council Chambers - a massive dome-shaped building. The guards posted at the gate had sighted him, though from the way they acted Carthus knew they were unsure of what to do. There were six of them, clad in steel armor and wielding sword and shield, and they watched him motionlessly as he rushed toward them.

Carthus swept down and resumed his humanly shape as he landed. Flicking both wrists, he sent twin arcs of air towards the guards in front, beheading them before they could even move. The other men tried to raise their shields, but Carthus swiped his arms forward, conjuring two shards of wind that sped towards their targets. The impact punctured their breastplates and felled them swiftly.

With blinding speed, he leapt forward and slammed into the remaining pair, crushing them and shattering the marmoreal floor. A boom echoed through the Council Chambers as he reverted back into his wind form and rocketed further into the building. More armed soldiers emerged to meet him, some wielding crossbows or long spears. Carthus kept moving, materializing only to dismember limbs with deadly precision or blow apart bodies with powerful torrents of air, sending deep thrums out as he switched between forms. He streaked past the obsidian and jade columns that supported the stone ceiling, slaying all that opposed him as he traveled further and further into the Chambers.

It was not long before bells and horns began to sound the alarm, and the guards began to rally together. As Carthus entered a deeper area of the building he transformed into a man once more, and saw that a party of soldiers stood in the middle of the great room. At their lead was a quartet of figures clad in armor gilded with gold, and grasping glowing swords. The Argent Four. One of them strode forward a few paces and raised his hand.

"Stop right there, Sentinel!" He called authoritatively. "You are trespassing the law of the Council!"

"As is my intention," Carthus replied him with contempt.

"The penalty for assault and murder in Valhalla is death," the Argent Knight warned. "If you do not cease your actions, we will arrest you and bring you under the Council's justice."

Carthus broke into a smile. "We shall see about that." He gathered himself and launched toward them, shifting into wind again. The Argent Knight in front raised his weapon to fight. The other three did not move to help him, thinking that the Sentinel would not stand a chance against the Argent Blade.

But Carthus's powers did not falter as he approached them. Much to their dismay, he hit the ground before them as a human once more, and struck the lead Knight in the chest with a strong zephyr, causing the man to fly back a hundred yards. The brunt of the force killed him as he collapsed onto the ground. Carthus disarmed the remaining three Knights with a flurry of his arms, sending bolts of air that knocked the swords from their hands. He smashed a fist with the force of a tempest into the first one, splintering his armor and obliterating his insides. The second was tossed into the tall ceiling with a quick thrust of Carthus's hands and splattered onto the floor afterward.

The last Knight watched Carthus in despair and confusion as the Sentinel advanced upon him. He struggled as Carthus grabbed his throat and lifted him into the air, armor and all. "But... but... how?" He gasped.

"Know this," Carthus hissed in his ear. "True justice cannot be stopped." He flung the man into a pillar, accelerating him with howling blasts of wind. The Knight cried out in pain as he smacked hard into the structure. Carthus raised his hands and brought them down smoothly. A gust of air from above slammed onto the man, so strong that it incapacitated him.

The rest of the guards fled once they saw that the Argent Knights had failed.

With a derisive _humph_, Carthus brushed the dust off of his cloak and walked down the length of the huge room. The door to the Inner Court lay before him. He opened it with a wave of his hand and strode inside. The Councilors were seated at their respective thrones. They rose in surprise as they saw him enter. Their bodyguards moved forward to stop him, but he removed them in a matter of seconds with a few blasts of air. He turned victoriously to the Council members and raised his hand. Some of them flinched. One of them, Councilor Dagon, spoke up.

"Sentinel Carthus!" He called, trying to sound relieved at seeing him. "You have returned at long last!"

Carthus ignored him. He eyed each of them angrily. "For centuries the Council has abused its power for its own benefit. The people of Valhalla suffer because of your indulgence. The children of the Outer Rings die of starvation while you feast on foreign delicacies. The laborers are not even paid enough to clothe themselves. Your taxes have crippled every merchant, every artisan, every innkeeper that does not swear allegiance to you. And the Argent Rock has protected you from the wrath of the Sentinels. But no more."

"You do not understand," another Councilor said, "we have made Valhalla wealthy throughout the years."

"You have amassed your wealth by stealing from your people!" Carthus retorted. "You have broken every law that Valhalla was built to stand for."

"Do not accuse us of your own crimes, Sentinel!" Councilor Meera reprimanded him.

"I have done nothing wrong!" Shouted Carthus. "My actions are for the people! And the people require a new Council!"

"We will never stand for this," Dagon said strongly.

"And that is why I will slay you all," Carthus flexed his hand and readied a dangerous gust of wind, "and I will present your bodies to the people."

He turned and pivoted his body, whipping his arm around and slicing open Councilor Meera's stomach with a sliver of air. The other Councilors cried in fear and scurried away, some hiding behind their chairs, others ducking under tables of pure diamond. Carthus brought his right foot down in front of him, sending a wave of wind out, crumbling the Council thrones.

"You will now pay for your transgressions!" He roared and pulled his arms up, spawning a frenzied cyclone in the room. The floor of the Inner Court trembled and began to rip apart as furniture and tiles flying about. The Councilors tumbled about haplessly, their cries muffled by the shrieking wind. Carthus advanced upon another Councilor, who had managed to hold on to a nook in a wall, and lifted his hand to strike.

Then the lightning came. A surge of energy blasted into his back, and Carthus heaved in pain as it coursed through his body, overwhelming him. A blue light had filled the room, and a crackling sound buzzed through the air. The heat made him scream in anguish, and he convulsed on the floor, writhing as it continued to electrify him.

It seemed to him as though it would never end, but it finally did, with a sizzling crack. Carthus lay smoldering on ground, his hands still twitching with lightning. His hair was singed and burning. The swirling furor around him had subsided. He turned his head slowly to see Gareth behind him.

"Gareth," he wheezed, "you stupid cur."

"I mastered my element while you were away," Gareth said. "And I see it is fortunate that I did. Had I not, you would have upset the balance of the city."

"You're a fool," spat Carthus. "Why would you save them? They have done nothing for you."

"It is the law," said Gareth firmly.

"We are meant to be _above _the law," Carthus said huskily, "to protect the innocent, and punish the guilty."

"Not like this," Gareth shook his head.

"Curse you, Gareth," Carthus said. He raised a hand to retaliate, but found that frost had begun to envelop his body, until he was quickly encased in a block of ice, with only his head protruding from it. Mara and the Northern Troll appeared behind Gareth.

"We warned you, Carthus," said Mara as she walked up. "You should never have done this."

Gareth grabbed his neck. "Now tell us, how did you defeat the Argent Knights?"

But Carthus drew back and lashed out with his mouth, biting Gareth furiously on the hand. The Sentinel of Fire yelled in pain and withdrew as Carthus spat out blood. "With this blood I curse you, Gareth Halcyon. I curse you and your descendants, until the end of time. You will _never_ find my secret."

The Sentinel of Fire examined the bloodied teeth marks on his injured hand. The Councilors had roused, and they now approached the scene cautiously, the sight of Meera's murder still fully in their minds.

"Your curses mean nothing here," Councilor Dagon said, "you are a disgraced man. The Council hereby exiles you from Valhalla. You must never return again, or you will risk by your fellow Sentinels."

The Northern Troll cocked his head in confusion. "But without a Sentinel of Air-"

Dagon stopped him with a hand. "We have thrived for seven years without him. Valhalla can do without all four elements."

Mara and the Troll nodded in understanding, but Carthus stared deep into Gareth's eyes.

"Curse you," he said one last time, with hatred in his voice.

"Enough," Gareth said, and cracked his hand upon the Sentinel of Air's head, knocking him unconscious.

* * *

_Castle Arendelle - Courtyard - Present Day_

The palace loomed into view as the party turned a corner and arrived at the bridge. Their journey back to Arendelle had started off fine. They had cheered themselves up at first by singing a few songs, but Kristoff's arms soon grew tired from playing his mandolin while walking. Pabbie and Kristoff then tried to show Arthur what a Northern Bluebird could do when one appeared near the sled, but a huge sneeze from Olaf sent it fluttering away, and so they were deprived of even this.

The travelers talked instead - of foods and of clothes, of Anna's funny stories with Elsa, of Kristoff's ice business, of pets and of swords and of books. Not once did anyone mention of how Pabbie had described Arthur as the Sentinel of Fire. Arthur figured they felt awkward about it, or they forgot. It was not too long before they had arrived back in Arendelle, as the Valley was not that far.

They had fitted wheels on the sled now, so that it would travel better on the brick streets of the city. As usual, Anna and Olaf sat inside as Sven pulled the makeshift cart. But Kristoff had taken to walking alongside them to allow room for Pabbie to sit. Arthur felt obligated to dismount Mara and travel on foot as well. He held her loosely by the reins as they approached the palace.

"Ah," Olaf sighed contentedly, "Home _sweet_ home!"

Kristoff agreed with him. "I can finally get some rest." He stumbled forward, having tripped on a loose stone. "Whoa." He grabbed onto the cart to stop his fall, making Sven snort in surprise.

Anna gave a look of concern. "Are you alright?" She asked.

"I'm fine," dismissed Kristoff, "Just a little tired, that's all." He gave an exhausted smile and took his hands off the cart.

Arthur could not help feeling guilty for his condition. "I'm sorry I put you through this. Perhaps we should have left for the Valley a few days later."

"Oh no, that's not what I meant," Kristoff said courteously. "It's not your fault, sir, don't worry."

The Ice-Master's eyes were sincere enough to make Arthur believe him. "Just call me Arthur," he told Kristoff, "you don't have to call me sir."

Pabbie laughed from his seat in the cart. "You are your father's son."

Arthur responded only with a smile. They crossed the bridge as Anna fussed over Kristoff's state and Olaf greeted each of the lamp-posts, which he had taken the liberty to name.

"You really shouldn't be walking on foot," Anna said, "come sit on the cart. I'll get off."

"Anna, we're nearly there," Kristoff pointed at the gate, "it's fine."

"When we get inside, you're going straight to bed," she insisted.

"After a shower. Geez, what are you, my mother?"

"Fine, after a shower."

Arthur grinned as he listened to the couple. They continued down the bridge. A guard at the top of the gatehouse sighted them. The man disappeared quickly behind the parapet. At the base of the gate, Flydd was on duty again. As they approached Arthur waved to him. "Good morning, how are you today?" He called goodheartedly.

Flydd stared dead ahead, stone faced. "Good day," he replied curtly.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "What's with him?" He turned to Anna expectantly, but she merely shrugged. He received his answer when they entered the compound. An entire squad of guards stood waiting for them inside, with serious faces and weapons drawn. As Sven and the cart reached a halt, Queen Elsa emerged from the palace, followed by Kai and Gerda. She looked anxious. With a nod, she signaled for the guards to close the gates, and the heavy doors were slammed shut.

"What's this?" Anna asked, confused.

Elsa called out to her sister, her voice tense. "Anna, Olaf, Kristoff, come here now."

"I don't understand," began Anna.

"Just come here," Elsa said again. Anna exited the cart obediently with Olaf, and walked toward her. Kristoff unhooked Sven from the wagon and followed them. Arthur began to move forward as well, but the Queen raised a hand to stop him.

"Stay away from them," she commanded. Arthur halted and eyed her curiously.

"I'm not quite sure I understand either," he said politely. "What's the matter?"

Kai the Steward stepped up and replied him. "The Queen of Arendelle has reason to believe that you are planning treason against her," he said officiously.

Arthur was not certain if he heard the man clearly. "What?"

Pabbie rose from his seat. "And what reasons do you speak of?" He asked.

Surprise leapt onto Elsa's face. "Grand Pabbie?"

"Queen Elsa."

"I didn't know you were here," Elsa said in shock.

Pabbie patted a small layer of dust off of his habit. "There are matters of interest here in Arendelle that I must attend to. But first, why are you accusing Arthur of these crimes?"

Clearing his throat, Kai spoke up again. "The Queen received a letter addressed to him. In it were contents that aroused our suspicions."

"Wait a minute, wait a minute," Olaf said in panic, "Arthur's a _bad guy_?"

"No, he's not," answered Pabbie, "I can assure you he is innocent."

Arthur paid no attention to him. "You read my letters?" He frowned at Elsa.

Her eyes were apologizing, but she turned away from him and to the guards. "Detain his man," she ordered. The dozen armed men advanced toward the cart.

Anna was not so sure about this. She grabbed Elsa's arm.

"What?" Her sister snapped.

"Elsa, what are you doing?" Anna asked. "This isn't how we do things here."

"Not now, Anna," Elsa said urgently and shrugged off her younger sister's hand.

"I would listen to her, Elsa," Arthur put in as the guards closed in on him, "You're making a mistake."

The Queen ignored his words. The first guard strode forward and reached out to take hold of Arthur, but Mara turned around and gave him a swift kick in the stomach.

"Oof," he said as he flew backwards, his cap flopping behind him. The other guards hesitated upon seeing their comrade knocked to the ground.

"Mara," Arthur scolded. But in truth he had been prepared to defend himself as well. The mare neighed and shook her mane, as though she were laughing.

Kai was unimpressed. "Arrest him," he urged the guards. Arthur shot an irritated glare at him, then turned to Elsa.

"Look, I don't even know what's going on," he tried to reason with her, "maybe you could give me the letter and I'll explain everything to you."

"If you're innocent, you'll have nothing to fear," Elsa replied.

The guards surged forward and grabbed hold of Arthur. It was all he could do to stop himself from blasting them in the face. Mara whinnied in protest and headbutted one of the men, making him land on his rear.

"Restrain that horse!" Kai's voice thundered. Two men snatched Mara's reins and another pair held her down.

"Hey," Arthur said angrily, "be careful with her!"

"Be still," one of the guards told him as he struggled against their grip. Arthur tried one last time to break free, but the eight hands holding him proved too strong. He gave up and turned his head to Elsa.

"Is this how you treat your visitors, then?" He asked sarcastically. "With restraining orders and accusations?"

"I don't know," Olaf was telling Kristoff off to the side, "he seems like a pretty nice guy."

"Quiet, Olaf," Kristoff whispered. He was not enjoying this either, but he knew it was not his place to interfere.

"Elsa, please stop this," Pabbie implored her, "this is mistake. Listen to me, Arthur would never plan treason against you."

She looked away. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice quavering, "But I'm doing this for my kingdom."

"At least give him a chance to prove his innocence," the Troll reasoned.

"If the contents of the letter are to be believed," Kai said for the Queen, "then Arthur Halcyon is a dangerous man. It details plans for an invasion of Arendelle, and details him as part of an insider's job."

"That's absurd," Arthur protested.

"The letter was quite clear."

"And did it specifically say 'Arendelle'?" Arthur asked.

Kai hesitated. "No," he said slowly. "But it was obvious that the target is here."

"And how," Arthur breathed out in annoyance, "the hell, is that?"

"Hey, watch your language young man," Olaf said disapprovingly.

But no one was listening to the snowman. Kai produced the letter and read from it. "It mentions quite a few qualities pertaining only to Arendelle and the Queen."

"Such as?" Pabbie inquired.

"In particular, the Queen's magical powers."

Arthur began to think he knew what was going on. "Did the letter say they were _Elsa's_ powers?"

Kai looked at the parchment again. "No," he admitted.

"Then how did you assume it was hers?"

"Well," Kai began, "because..." He stopped as the words began to sink in, and turned to Elsa for help, but she was equally dumbfounded. The Queen was trying to make sense of what Arthur said.

"So you're saying that there are other people who have powers, besides me?" She asked him.

Arthur gave a charming smile and indicated the guards with his head. "Maybe I'd talk better if I wasn't..."

She was interested in what he had to tell her, but she was unsure if she should set him free. Kai had often been adviser to her father. She glanced sideways at him to see if he had any opinion, but the steward seemed just as intrigued as she was. Hoping she was not making the wrong decision, Elsa nodded to the guards restraining Arthur, and they released him.

The red-head shook their hands off and stretched the ache out of his shoulders.

"Now," Elsa stepped toward him, "explain."

Arthur took a furtive glimpse at Pabbie. The troll met his gaze and nodded. _It is time_, his eyes said. With a sigh, Arthur adjusted his clothes and looked back at Elsa.

"Explain, huh?" He said with a smile.

_This is going to take a long time, _he thought.


	8. Who We Are

******Chapter 8: Who We Are**

**Author's Note: I'm beginning to see more feedback, which is great. Thank you for your support. I would greatly appreciate more reviews, of course, so Please Review. **

******If you are enjoying my writing style, you might want to check out MolonLabe300's work. He is my younger brother, and many people have often said that we share similar styles, although he loves digging into darker themes. His works are mainly based on Phineas and Ferb.**

* * *

_Valhalla - The Inner Ring - 16 Years Prior_

Gareth examined the cut on his son's grubby cheek with care. "How did you get this?"

"Imperius."

That was all he needed to say. Gareth understood and pointed to a nearby stool. "Go sit over there so I can clean it. You've gotten all dirty."

As Arthur moved to obey him, Gareth left for the kitchens, his indoor sandals slapping against the floor.

Their house was spacious, though far from being among the largest of Valhalla's estates. The walls were built from strong alabaster, the same as most of the city's dwellings, and painted pure white every year by him. Smoothly cut grey stone slabs made up the floor, though multiple fur rugs were spread around various places. In the day, the stone kept away the sweltering summer heat, and now at night, the carpets staved off the evening chills. Along the ceiling hung lamps that lit the rooms with a soft glow. The furniture was not of rare stuff - mostly from local carpenters and stonemasons.

Near the end of the living room lay a fire-pit that Gareth had constructed himself with red quarry-bought bricks. Arthur sat here until his father came back. He returned with a bowl of water and a clean cloth, and knelt on the white stone floor in front of his son. Gareth draped the towel over his shoulders, and with his left hand held the wooden bowl up to his right. Arthur watched his father as he summoned a wisp of blue flame with his fingers, and placed it under the container, heating the water quickly. They waited for a few heartbeats, until steam began to rise. Satisfied, Gareth waved the flame away.

He soaked the cloth in the hot water. "What happened today, then?"

Arthur looked down ashamedly, his face reddening. "Just the usual."

Gareth leaned to his right so that he could dab the wound gently. "And did you start it?"

"No," Arthur said, flinching from the sting of the wet cloth.

"Then did you fight back?"

The reply repeated itself. "No."

Gareth nodded as he continued to work on the cut. Arthur sighed despairingly.

"Why can't I fight him? He's just a bully."

"When you grow older, you will have to work closely with Imperius," Gareth said, still brushing Arthur's cut. "If you fight him, it will only strain your relationship further."

"But I don't want to work with Imperius," said Arthur angrily.

"You don't have a choice."

"But I hate him!" Arthur pouted. "I wish he was dead!"

Gareth finished cleaning the cut and looked at his son. The outburst was unexpected, but he retained his calm demeanor.

"You wish he was dead?" He asked the boy quietly. Arthur nodded. Gareth put the bowl of water and towel aside. "But did you ever think that things would be better if he were your friend?"

"Imperius will never want to be my friend."

"But what if there is the smallest possibility that you did become friends? Wouldn't the world be better if everyone was good and kind and was your friend, rather than having enemies at all?"

Arthur frowned at his father. "But I thought you fight bad guys."

Gareth Halcyon patted his son's knee. "I only fight when I have to. A Sentinel's job is to protect people. If someone is hurting another, I have to stop them." He leaned in close, so that Arthur would remember his words. "But I never, _ever_ fight, or hurt anyone, unless I have to."

Arthur's shoulders slumped in disappointment. "Okay," he replied reluctantly.

His father touched his arm. "I'm not saying that you should let Imperius hurt you. You need to stand up for yourself, but you must not use violence."

"But he's being violent," Arthur said softly. "Why can't I?"

"Because how will that make you any better than him?" Gareth asked and smiled.

"I don't _want_ to be better than him," complained Arthur. "I just want him to leave me alone."

He looked up at his father. "Why can't you stop him?"

Gareth met his son's gaze. "Because he will just do it again when no one else is there. If you want to learn how to protect others, first you have to learn how to protect yourself. You have to show him yourself that he can't bully you."

"But how can I do that if I can't fight back?"

"You have to show him that you're not afraid."

"It didn't work last time," argued Arthur. "I told him I wasn't scared of him, but he hurt me anyway."

Gareth smiled. "You told him you weren't scared, but did you _feel_ scared?"

His son hesitated at first, but nodded afterward, shame-faced.

"It didn't work, because you said you weren't afraid, but your heart did not agree with you. It's not what you do or say, it's what you are." Gareth placed a finger on Arthur's chest. "And what you are, is all in here," he poked at the boy's heart lightly.

"I won't say it's easy," he admitted, "sometimes it takes a long time to learn."

The boy looked at his father with newfound admiration. "But you're never scared. Right, dad?"

Gareth laughed. "Of course I have."

Arthur blinked in surprise. "You mean you've been scared before?"

"Many times," answered Gareth with a nod.

"But you're so brave," Arthur said.

"Because each time," Gareth replied, "I reminded myself of what I was inside, and who I was. And my heart agreed with me, and I wasn't afraid anymore. You can always do the same."

His son smiled and nodded, dangling his legs on the edge of the stool. Gareth grinned back and tussled the boy's red hair. "Let me go put these away," he said as he picked up the bowl and towel, and rose to his feet.

But Arthur asked him another question.

"Was mama brave?"

He stopped.

And remembered the softness of her hands. Her vibrant laughter when they talked together. Her gentle voice in the morning when she called his name. Her beautiful, blue eyes; her elegant white hair.

"Yes, she was. She was always brave."

Arthur said nothing for a few seconds. He bit his lip miserably. "I miss her."

Gareth did not turn back around, lest his son see the tears in his eyes.

"I miss her too," he said, his voice so quiet it faded into a whisper.

* * *

_Castle Arendelle - Courtyard - Present Day_

Arthur swept his gaze around the courtyard. Everyone was looking at him expectantly - Elsa, Anna, Kai, Gerda, Kristoff, the guards. Even the goofy Olaf had kept quiet and was ready to listen. He smiled cheerfully at them and spoke.

"Well, you're probably wondering what I meant by saying the letter wasn't talking about Elsa's powers," he began. The small crowd nodded.

Arthur kept his smile on his face. "I, uh, said that because there are people other than her who have powers. We have them in Valhalla."

"You mean there are other people that can control ice?" Elsa asked with interest.

"Well-"

"Can they make snowmen like me?" Olaf piped up.

"How many of them are there?" Anna chirped.

"Are they guys or girls?" Kristoff put in.

Arthur held up his hands in annoyance. "Hey, can you just... let me do the talking? It's kind of hard to explain when you're all throwing questions at me." When they stopped chattering, he continued.

"In answer to your question," he turned to Elsa, "uh, no."

Elsa cocked her head and frowned. "Then what can they do?"

"It, uh, I, they can do various things," Arthur said. "What I mean is that there's usually only one or two people at a time that can do each. The only way for someone's magic to be passed down is to have children that will receive it, but only one child will inherit their parent's powers."

"But neither of our parents had ice powers," said Anna. "Unless..." She looked at Elsa questioningly.

"No," Elsa said firmly, "they didn't." Her tone was adamant.

Princess Anna turned back to the discussion. "How come Elsa has her powers, then?"

"If someone dies before they have a child that inherited their magic abilities, their powers are transferred to a child, usually born around the same time as their death."

Arthur paused, allowing them to imagine the concept. "So when I was born," Elsa replied, "that was when the last Snow Queen, or King, died?"

"Well, she wasn't a _Q__ueen_, but yes," Arthur confirmed. "She died without having a child that could manipulate ice. So you were given her powers. It's amazing how Valhalla never found you."

There was confusion on Elsa's face. "Why would they need to find me?"

"Because they can teach you how to use your powers," explained Arthur. His words were nonchalant, but from the way Elsa grew quiet he could tell she was intrigued.

Now Kristoff spoke up. "So, what else besides controlling ice can these special people do?"

"There are four elements in all - fire, earth, air, and ice," Arthur counted on his fingers and showing them to the others.

"That's it?" Anna asked, almost in disappointment.

Arthur nodded. "That's it. And there's always at least one person who can control at each of these."

Olaf waved his stubby arms. "Oh, tell me they can make rock golems and fire people and air buddies too!"

Arthur shook his head with a smile. "Unfortunately, only people who make ice can do that."

The little snowman's arms sagged. "Aw..."

"You seem to know a lot about people with powers," Elsa spoke up again, with a hint of suspicion in her voice.

Arthur opened his mouth to reply, but this time Pabbie answered for him. The troll had kept himself very silent, until now. "That is because he is one of them."

The rest started in surprise. "Wait, what?" Elsa said, her eyes widening.

"HOLD on a second," Anna held her hands up, "_you_ have powers _too_?"

"Yes, I do," Arthur said, rolling his eye. He pointed to his head, then at Elsa. "Look at my hair... It's just like hers. How hard is it to figure it out?"

"I always thought he dyed it," Olaf murmured.

Kristoff's eyes caught sight of the crimson tufts on Arthur's head. "So you can use... fire?" He guessed.

Arthur stuck his chin out in frustration. "No, I make FLOWERS!" He cried sarcastically. "You know, roses and the like!"

One or two guards gave a chuckle, but most of the castle staff stepped back in fear. Even Elsa withdrew a few paces. Anna retreated behind Kristoff. "You're not gonna explode on us or something, are you?" She asked hesitantly.

"What?" Arthur said incredulously. "No. I don't have any more chance of exploding than you do."

"But if you explode, chances are you'll make us explode too," Kristoff reasoned, "so are you going to explode?"

"No, I will not explode," answered Arthur with irritation.

"How do we know for sure?" Kai asked him.

"Because I've been trained not to," Arthur said. "And we don't _explode, _that's just crazy."

Kristoff crossed his arms. "Crazier than being able to make fire from nothing?"

"Actually I always thought fire happened because stuff was becoming nothing," Olaf commented.

"That doesn't make any sense, Olaf," Kristoff said from the corner of his mouth. The Snowman waddled his head in indifference, making small specks of snow drift from him.

Arthur was about to speak again, but Elsa's voice stopped him. The Queen moved forward and inclined her head toward him apologetically. "I'm sorry... for what happened. My decision to arrest you was rash, and it was unfair. If you would pardon me, and my kingdom, I would be very grateful."

Her gentle words calmed the vehemence in Arthur. He halted himself and observed Elsa carefully, searching for some hint of insincerity or doubt in her.

When he found none, he replied with a sigh. "There is nothing to forgive."

He expected the Queen to smile or thank him, but instead she looked at him with hopeful eyes. "Then, since you know so much more about magic," she said, folding her hands humbly, "will you be willing to teach me?"

Arthur considered her words slowly. He had never instructed others in magic before. He had only learned - first from the sages, and then from his father. The task seemed overwhelming.

_But under the circumstances_, he thought to himself. Perhaps it was better to accept her request.

He nodded once more. "I don't see why not."

* * *

_Castle Arendelle - The Royal Bedchambers - Present Day_

Elsa sat at the foot of her plush lavender bed, her legs tucked under her. Her sister was lying cozily on the mattress, recently bathed and changed, with her head propped up on a feather pillow. It was only the two of them inside the bedroom, but their voices were still quiet.

"I'm still not sure how I feel about this," Elsa shared in a quiet voice. "Who knew there were other people out there with magic?"

"It's... really weird," Anna said with a tiny laugh, as though she were still in disbelief. "Though, not as weird for me, I guess. It was _really_ weird when I found out about _your_ powers."

"I'm sorry," said Elsa sadly. She looked down and away.

Her sister sat up and placed a hand on hers. "Why do you keep apologizing? I've already told you a hundred times, it's fine," she said tenderly.

Elsa smiled at her response, but the guilt still lingered. "I just don't want to hurt you ever again. I don't ever want to hurt _anyone_ ever again."

"Even Hans?" Anna grinned.

"Even Hans," Elsa repeated. She looked at her sister with a twinkle in her eyes, and the two burst into a fit of giggles, remembering the image of Anna socking the Prince off of a ship. Elsa's laughter subsided, and she let out a deep breath. Anna was still shaking with glee.

The Queen waited for her sister to finish before speaking again, this time in a less cheerful voice. She had thought of something. "Did-" she began, but she clenched her jaw in hesitation.

"What?" Anna asked, leaning closer.

Elsa rubbed her hands nervously. "Do you think that... ma and pa..." she continued, "ever knew about this?"

"About other people having powers?"

Elsa nodded. Anna's eyes squinted in thought. "I don't _think_ so... You'd probably know more than I do."

"They never mentioned anything like that," Elsa said, frowning in concentration. She paused and gave a sigh. "I always believed I was on my own."

Anna reached over and took Elsa's hand in hers. "You won't be on your own anymore," she assured. "I'll always be here for you."

It wasn't want Elsa had meant, but her sister's words still encouraged her. "Thanks," she said with a smile.

Anna scooted closer. "So," she said enthusiastically, "do you still like him?"

"Anna, I never liked him," denied Elsa.

"Uh-huh." Anna raised her eyebrows skeptically - something she had picked up from Kristoff.

"Why would you think that?" Elsa tried to look confused, but the truth was that she _was _attracted to the red-head. It irritated her, not knowing why she felt that way.

"You always talk about him with those romantic eyes," Anna teased. "And oh, you _arrested_ him, that's so cute!"

Elsa could not help but laugh at how ridiculous her sister sounded. "You're crazy. You've been reading those 'Forbidden Love' stories again, haven't you?"

Anna ignored her accusation. "And now you've asked him to train you! What better way to get more of his attention, huh?" She poked her sister's shoulder.

Elsa brushed her hand away. "You're just happy I'm distracted so you get more alone time with Kristoff," she countered.

"At least I'm not afraid to _say_ it," Anna stuck her chin out.

"That's your problem," Elsa said with a smile, "you're never afraid to say anything."

"Hey!" Anna lunged forward playfully in retaliation, landing on Elsa. Her older sister's eyes widened in surprise.

"Anna-" She tried to say frantically, but the brown-haired girl was upon her, rough-housing away, crumpling the sheets. Elsa struggled to push her sister away, but she was no match for Anna's tenacity.

"Hiya!" Anna cried as they tumbled around on the bed.

"Stop-" Elsa's voice was anxious, but her sister continued to press the attack.

She felt an elbow dig painfully into her side.

"ANNA, STOP!" She yelled, jerking violently away.

Anna screamed in shock as a deadly spike of ice shot out from the bed toward her, stopping inches from her chest. Had she moved any further, it would have impaled her. She looked at her sister, scared and speechless.

Elsa had tears in her eyes. "Don't _ever_ do that again!"

"But... but... I thought you weren't like that anymore," Anna stammered.

The Queen trembled with fright. Frost had begun to form around her, crystallizing into shards on the mattress and floor. "This is why I asked him to teach me. Anna, _look _at me. I'm a _monster_."

"No, no, it's my fault," Anna shook her head desperately, "I shouldn't have jumped at you like that. You're not a monster, you've never been."

Elsa turned away shakily, hugging herself, as though she were afraid to touch her sister. "You don't understand, it's not just once like this. It happens all the time. How long will it take before I hurt you again? Or Kristoff? Or Gerda?"

"But you can control it," Anna said. She moved toward Elsa, skirting around the blue ice protruding from the bed, and laid a loving hand on her shoulder."I know you can. Because we're together now."

But Elsa drew away. "Anna, don't you see? I can't do it. Every time I get angry or scared or sad, it gets out of control."

"Maybe, but Elsa, listen to me. You are _not_ a monster. You know that," Anna said firmly.

The Queen closed her eyes and held her head in her hands. A sob escaped her lips. "I don't know what I am."


	9. Answers?

**Chapter 9: Answers?**

**Please Review  
**

* * *

_Arendelle - Present Day_

The ocean waves had always fascinated him. Sailing, perhaps, was not his strongest point, but since he was a child, he had been content to watch the water roll and crash against the sides of Valhalla's docks. There was something in their steady sway, their rhythmic flow, that mesmerized him. They would gather up and spew their various contents out - a sailor's hat; a small fish; a stray glove or boot, only to swallow them up again when they receded. Arthur remembered how he had gasped with delight when he discovered a rusty old knife on the end of the pier. He had only been three.

But the waters of Arendelle were not home to any renegade tools or runaway morsels of food. A constant cleanliness was present in the pristine blue expanse, with only the light pitch of the North Sea's waves to break its calm. He let the cool water lap around the toes of his boots as he stood on the rocky shore, feeling its soothing touch and listening to its docile swish each time it arrived.

The soft crunch of footsteps made Arthur turn around. Pabbie approached, dressed in his tribal garments and jewelry, the calm breeze ruffling his spiky mane. He had come out of a postern behind the shoreline, one of the side exits to the castle. Arthur gave him a polite nod as he descended the stairs.

"I trust that you're refreshed from our journey?"

"It was short," Pabbie waved his hand in dismissal. "I am far from tired."

"That's good."

Pabbie stopped alongside Arthur, though he did not step past the water's edge. "There are a few things we should discuss."

"Such as?"

"The manner of your approach to the Queen."

Arthur's eyebrows spread in question. "She took the news rather well. Had you not been there, I have no doubt that things would have been different."

Pabbie shook his head. "What I mean is your language."

The young man frowned. "Meaning?"

"You cannot just speak to her as though she were some fishmonger you met on the street," Pabbie said with agitation. "She is a _Queen_, and you are in her kingdom. You must give her the respect she deserves."

"She's hardly worthy of it, as far as I can see," Arthur replied scornfully.

Pabbie sighed. "She acted in the interest of protecting her kingdom."

"She acted like a child," huffed Arthur. "She convicted me of treason with no witnesses and a scrapful of misinterpreted evidence. What on earth was she thinking?"

"Do you think she means you any harm?" Pabbie argued, "She chose to believe your claim and pronounce your innocence, despite that you had not even shown her an inkling of your powers."

"Is that supposed to justify her outlandish accusations?"

"I thought your father taught you about respect," Pabbie said, almost in exasperation.

"He taught me that it should be earned by a man's character," countered Arthur.

"And did he tell you that it is not a man's actions that determines his character, but his intention?" Pabbie folded his arms. "In this case, a woman's."

Arthur drew in his breath to argue, but stopped short when he saw the truth in the troll's words. "Yes," he admitted, "he did."

Pabbie nodded, glad that the young man understood. "Queen Elsa is not a bad person. True, there is confusion in her, and sometimes fear. But her heart is kind, and she loves her people."

Arthur considered what Pabbie had said, then consented. "I guess I'm lucky she's not the type to kill her enemies in their sleep," he said with a grin.

"Yes, you are." Pabbie returned the smile.

"Anyway, we arranged to meet here a while ago," Arthur turned his attention to the afternoon sun. It had long since passed its peak. "Where is she?"

"Fashionably late, maybe," Pabbie suggested.

Arthur flashed a look of annoyance at him. "Fashionably?"

The troll shrugged. "She is the Queen. Everything that she does is to be treated as an acceptable action."

"So I have to patronize her?"

"Well, yes," Pabbie said reluctantly, "although you would be better off seeing it as honoring her."

Arthur eyed the troll carefully. "Fine," he replied.

"You do know how to converse with nobility?"

"Of course," Arthur replied. "The sages and my father taught me how."

He glanced at the postern, and caught a glimpse of Elsa walking outside. "Looks like she's here."

Pabbie had seen of the Queen as well. "I will take my leave now," he announced, turning to the gate.

"Whatever for?" asked Arthur.

"To speak with Kristoff," Pabbie replied, moving toward the postern. He reached the stairs, and waited for Queen Elsa to clear the steps before bowing deeply to her.

"Your Grace," he greeted her respectfully.

She acknowledged him in return with a polite nod. "Grand Pabbie," she said and continued down the shore as Pabbie climbed the stairs.

The Queen was dressed well as usual, this time in a lilac dress and cape. Her tiara nestled lightly on her braided hair. As she came nearer, Arthur stepped from the water's reach and called out to her. "It is good to see you again," he bowed. "Your Majesty," he added quickly as she stopped in front of him.

Elsa took his hands and pulled him to his feet. "No need to call me that," she said, "not after what I've done to you."

Arthur paused, wondering what he should say. "There is nothing you have done that I have not forgiven," he decided to tell her, and bowed with his arm tucked in at his waist. "I apologize in turn for my language this morning."

She smiled warmly at him. It was only then that Arthur realized she had tear stains on her cheeks. "Are you all right?" he asked her cautiously, hoping she would not take offense.

The Queen widened her eyes in surprise. "Oh, this?" She rubbed her cheeks hurriedly. "It's nothing, I'm fine. And please just call me Elsa."

"As you wish," Arthur bowed curtly, though he did not believe her words. They stood quietly next to one another for a moment, each trying to find something to say. It was Elsa who managed to rekindle the conversation.

"Did you manage to read the letter?" She asked.

"I did," replied Arthur. "Its contents were very valuable to me."

They were silent for a few seconds once again. "I hope this space is suitable for us?" Elsa said swiftly, so that their conversation did not fall into another awkward lull.

Arthur nodded, scanning their surroundings. "It is small, but as long as we are not disturbed unexpectedly, it will serve its purpose."

"We won't be interrupted," Elsa assured him, "I've instructed the staff not to approach this place without permission, and as you can see, the only way to get out here is through the castle."

"Or you could swim," Arthur pointed out, trying to lighten the mood.

It worked. The Queen's lips curved into a wry smile. "Yes, you _could_ do that."

Arthur felt the moment was opportune for his question. "Your Grace, if I might ask-"

"Elsa," the Queen said firmly.

"Elsa," repeated Arthur obediently, "if I might ask, why did you ask me to train you?" He had pondered this issue for the better part of the day, confused by the Queen's request for him to teach her. At first he suspected that she had merely voiced it in passing; as a sign of respect or to make amends. But then she arranged for them to meet that very day - something that had taken Arthur by surprise.

The tone in the Queen's voice changed abruptly, and her face fell. "I've hurt a lot of people in the past because of my powers," she said sadly, "I don't want that to happen anymore."

Arthur folded his hands behind his back. "So you want to learn how to control your magic?"

Queen Elsa responded with a nod. "I thought at first that I could control it with love, but sometimes... when things get out of hand..."

"Ah," said Arthur with a smile, "but _that_ is the first flaw in your approach to magic."

She looked at him inquisitively. "What do you mean?"

"Show me what you can do with your powers," Arthur told her.

"But you've already seen them," Elsa replied.

"Show me again."

"Well, what would you like me to show you?"

"Anything."

The Queen seemed nervous, but she extended her right arm in front of her, and with a light flourish of her hand produced a magnificent spout of frost in the air before her. Its ends curled slowly as it expanded outward and dissolved, turning into a freefall of fresh powder. Elsa turned to Arthur quickly, hoping he approved.

The red-haired man's smile widened. "Now see, that's not quite right," he critiqued.

Elsa's shoulders sagged slightly in disappointment. "I'm afraid I'm still confused."

"As someone rather accustomed to magic, I can feel the source of your power," Arthur explained. "And I can sense that you are using an emotion to fuel your ice. Like you mentioned earlier, this emotion is love, am I right?"

"I... I suppose," Elsa admitted, "although I am not sure that love is an _emotion_."

"It is a collection of emotions, at most," Arthur granted her that. "But the basis of it is still founded on your feelings."

"So what does this mean?" asked Elsa.

"Emotion is an outlet for channeling your powers," said Arthur, "yet it can be unpredictable and volatile. When a Sentinel experiences positive emotion-"

"I am sorry," Elsa interrupted, "but I fear I don't know what a Sentinel is."

Arthur scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Forgive me, Your Grace-"

"Elsa," she insisted.

"Elsa," Arthur corrected himself once more. "That was my mistake. In Valhalla, Sentinels are what we call those who can use magic. It is their duty to protect the peace and law in the city."

"Oh, I see," replied Elsa, "was your family part of this?"

"Yes," said Arthur. "But that's beside the point."

"Of course," Elsa said instantly, "please continue." She inclined her head toward him.

He cleared his throat. "As I was saying, a Sentinel may experience positive emotions, and it will be easy for them to control their powers. But if they feel negative emotions - and believe me, they will eventually - it is likely that chaos will ensue. For each element, there is one emotion that is deadly in particular."

"I never knew that," Elsa said in wonder.

"You cannot be blamed," reasoned Arthur, "there is little you could have experienced so far away from other Sentinels. For fire, anger is the emotion to be wary of."

"Grand Pabbie told me something like that when I was a child," said Elsa, remembering. "He said that fear would be my worst enemy."

"He was right," Arthur said. "For ice, it is fear. If you allow yourself to be afraid, it will be nigh impossible for you to control your magic. The greater your fear, the worse it becomes."

"But what if I'm not afraid for myself, but for another?" Elsa asked.

"It makes no difference," said Arthur matter-of-factly, "the emotion itself causes the chaos."

Elsa placed a hand to her forehead, and said nothing in reply. Arthur looked at her in concern. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No," Elsa shook her head, "it's just that... All this time I was afraid of hurting those around me. I never realized my fear was just making it worse."

"Your desire not to harm others is more of a thought, and not truly the emotion," Arthur said. "But if panic or fear do seize you, for whatever reason, your powers will grow out of hand."

The Queen nodded in understanding, but she was still troubled. "It's hard to keep my feelings in control. I don't think I can do it."

"Of course you can't," Arthur replied. "Don't you think that I get angry sometimes?"

Elsa bit her lip as she remembered the red-head's reaction to his arrest earlier that morning. "Perhaps once or twice," she said quietly.

Arthur saw the look of guilt on her, but chose to ignore it. Instead, he held his hand up at chest level. "That is why it's better to an alternative way to channel your magic." With a simple flick of his fingers, his entire palm ignited in orange flame. Elsa drew back in surprise and gave a small cry.

He laughed at her reaction, though not unkindly. "I thought you knew I had powers?"

"Yes, forgive me," Elsa replied quickly, regaining her composure, "I had just never seen yours before."

"Well, now you have," Arthur smiled, "I suppose I should have shown them to you a while ago."

"Indeed," Elsa nodded. She stared at his flaming hand, almost enraptured by it. "So how do you do it, without using your emotions?"

Arthur explained, "I _will_ the fire to happen. And I control it, I _command_ it, with my will." He intensified the flames so that they turned a bright blue. Elsa could feel the heat of it on her skin.

"Think of it as using your right or left hands to write," he held up both of his palms. "If you were to use your right hand all the time, your left would be less adept and unused to the task. But if you were to train yourself to use your other hand, you would find it easier to write with the more you practice."

"What does this have to do with magic?" Elsa questioned.

"The same goes with emotion and willpower. If you were to practice using your mind instead of your heart, your emotions will almost never be able to cause chaos, because your magic no longer channels through your feelings.

"It will become more natural to you as time goes on. The easiest way to channel your powers through this method is to use motions with your body at the same time. Valhallan Sentinels and sages have discovered countless moves to produce different results."

"I've noticed that," Elsa said, "it works with emotions too. I often have to use my magic through my arms and hands. But how is willpower really that much better?"

"With willpower, you can manipulate your element," said Arthur, "until it can do almost anything for you."

Then he swerving aside and stretched out his hand, and the fire raced forth from his fingers in the shape of a human arm, grabbing a small rock and lifting it into the air. Elsa watched in amazement as Arthur whipped his arm backwards and sent the rock flying into his other hand. He caught the stone neatly with his fingers.

The Queen was in awe. "How did you-"

"It is something my father invented," Arthur grinned, "called the Halcyonian Form. As a Sentinel, he was supposed to bring justice to the streets. But it is easy for someone else who is innocent to be injured in the process. That is why a Sentinel's duty is to be precise. In Valhalla, all Sentinels learn to use their powers only to do what is needed, but sometimes it is difficult to keep the damage to a minimum. My father helped with this by creating the Halcyonian, as a non-lethal way to use fire in apprehending criminals or performing other tasks."

"But how does it work?" Elsa asked, looking intently at the rock in Arthur's hand.

"To do it, you need to command your fire to take physical form. I trained for more than ten years with my father to accomplish this," said Arthur rather boastfully. "It requires a great deal of concentration to restrain flame while still manipulating it."

Elsa opened her mouth to ask something else, but Arthur had already anticipated her question.

"And I am sorry," he shrugged apologetically, "but the Halcyonian Form will only synergize with fire. My father and the sages both agreed on this. The other elements simply do not possess the malleability that Halcyonian requires."

"Oh," Elsa said in disappointment. Arthur looked upon her with pity.

"There are still many ways to make your powers safe," he consoled her.

"And you can teach me how, right?" Elsa asked, just to assure herself.

Arthur gave a short pause. _Can I? _he asked himself. _I've never done this before_. _I know little to nothing about ice_. He doubted he had the capability to teach Elsa anything new. But when he looked at her again, he saw the anxiety in her eyes.

"Of course," he lied, hoping she did not see the uncertainty on his face. "I definitely can."

The Queen nodded primly, but Arthur knew she was relieved by his answer.

"So where should we start?" she asked.

"I suppose we should begin by teaching you how to use your willpower," Arthur told her. He remembered an exercise the sages had taught him when he was a child. "Hold out your arm, if you will."

Elsa obeyed him and extended her right limb forward.

"Now, if you would make some ice..."

She flicked her index finger and spawned a light draft of drifting snowflakes. It hovered before her in a small cloud of white.

"Now think of an animal, any animal," Arthur instructed her.

"A rabbit," Elsa said after some thought.

"Now tell your ice, _tell_ your ice - command it, do not feel it - to take the form of a rabbit."

The Queen's brows creased in concentration, and she waved her fingers. The draft in front of her spun gently in accordance to her hand. But no rabbit appeared. She stopped after a while, and turned to him with embarrassment on her face.

"I can't."

Arthur understood why. "You are too used to using your emotions. When you channel magic through your emotion, you move your arms and body, and _hope_ that your ice will follow your wishes, as though you were friends."

"And with willpower," Elsa said, "I should be its master?"

"Not quite," Arthur smiled, "with willpower, you have to _be_ your element."

He lifted his arm up and closed his fist. A blast of flames erupted from his hand, growing rapidly until it transformed into the shape of a huge and roaring dragon, so great that Elsa had to look up to see it. It spread its wings and turned directly to Elsa, so that goosebumps appeared on her skin, and gazed at her fiercely, though she could not see its eyes.

Then, as quickly as he had summoned it, Arthur took a deep breath and drew back his arm, and the dragon flames died instantly.

Elsa stared where the animated beast used to be. "That was amazing," she said in astonishment.

"It's not that difficult to do," Arthur smiled, "once you have been used to your willpower. Try again." He pointed to her hand, which was still raised upright.

She frowned again, focusing hard on the ice before her, but it continued to simply swirl in the air.

_Maybe she needs more help, _thought Arthur. "You've created snowmen and ice giants before with your emotions," he said, "it's not too different from using your mind. Imagine about the distinct features of the animal and put your concentration into each one, one by one."

"Long ears," Elsa said out loud, closing her eyes.

"Say it in your head, but keep going," encouraged Arthur, watching the ice.

The Queen thought silently, and her frown deepened as she focused even more. It was a while before she was finished, but when she opened her eyes, she gasped in delight. Before her floated the replica of a life-size rabbit made of snow and ice, complete with buck teeth, whiskers, four scrunchy legs, and a fluffy tail.

She glanced at her teacher for approval, and he bestowed it with a smile. "Very good," Arthur said. "You learn fast."

"Thank you," Elsa smiled back. She dropped her hand, and the snow uncombined and fell to the ground, disappearing as it touched the shore. "It was difficult at first."

"It seems as though you are grasping the concept well," praised Arthur. She gave him a look of gratitude.

"This means a lot to me," she shifted her gaze to her hands. "Especially with what's happening next week."

Arthur raised his eyebrows questioningly. "What is?"

"My sister's birthday," Elsa explained. "We've planned a party for her, and everyone in the kingdom will be there."

"Everyone?" Arthur repeated, impressed. "It sounds like a big party."

"It's... the first time she's had one for fourteen years," said Elsa, looking guiltily at her feet. "My father and mother never really threw an official one for her... because of me. She deserves a celebration like this."

"I am sure she does." It was all Arthur could think of to say. The Queen's eyes flitted up and met his.

"You're invited to attend, of course," she said. "You'll have a seat of honor with us."

Her offer made Arthur hesitate. It had not been a shock to him, but the invitation had been unexpected. "I would be humbled to join you," Arthur bowed courteously.

_A party,_ he thought, w_hy not?_

* * *

_Valhalla - Outer Ring - 21 Years Prior_

Gareth's chestnut destrier shook its mane as he dismounted.

"Stay put," he commanded the horse, who rocked its head up and down in understanding.

The dark night sky glowed from the fires of the damaged city and the torches of the repairmen at work, so that the stars were only a faint glimmer. Smoke rose from pillaged buildings nearby, and the smell of charred wood and concrete wafted through the Working Quarter's streets. Raindrops pelted his hooded head as he trod carefully on the slippery cobblestone tiles.

The recent downpour had been both a blessing and a curse. The storms helped to put out some of the smaller fires in the city, but the wet had worsened the conditions for Pabbie and the repairmen. The Eight Armies had touched the Working Quarter the least, and so most of the infirmaries had been moved here. Gareth made his way into one of these now, a wealthy business-owner's gigantic estate.

A man dressed in black robes met him at the entrance as he stepped inside.

"Ah Gareth, it's you," the man raised his lantern to get a better look of the Sentinel.

"Sir Kay," replied Gareth in greeting.

Kay leaned to the side so that he could peek around Gareth. He saw no one behind the cloaked man.

"Where is Arthur?" He asked.

"In our residence, with Sage Rikkem," said Gareth, shaking the water off of his cloak.

"I see," nodded Sir Kay. "Does he know?"

The red-headed Sentinel looked into Kay's eyes. "No."

"Ah."

Gareth removed the hood from his head. "Where is she?"

"Follow me." Sir Kay beckoned further into the hall.

The two of them walked briskly through the dark corridor, which was lit only by a meager spread of torches. Gareth drew forth his arm and brightened them, so that he could see clearer. Along the walls were beds and cots laden with the sick and wounded. A few men and women rushed to and fro, caring for their patients. Blood was splattered on the ground almost everywhere, soiling the beautiful marble floor of the manse.

"I gave her a separate room," Kay told him as the walked, "I thought she deserved one."

"Thank you," Gareth said quietly. _She deserved more than that, _he thought to himself.

They stopped near the doorway of a room, as Kay had promised. The frame was made of pure jade, though in the dismal light its beauty was dulled. The room itself was large enough to fit a dozen people inside, since it was furnished only with a great stone slab that served as a table. The only light came from a rusty brazier hanging from the ceiling. But the only thing that Gareth cared about was lying on the block.

At the center of the room, a shrouded body was set on the makeshift surface. The two men stepped forward until they were within a foot's distance of it.

Gareth touched the block. "Where did they find her?" he asked, his gaze riveted on the veiled corpse.

"Under some rubble by the markets," Kay replied. He watched as Gareth placed a hand on the edge of the cloth. "Gareth," he warned, "it's bad."

The Sentinel said nothing, but lifted the shroud slowly. He felt his heart sink at what he saw.

"Heaven help us."

They had not changed out of her blood-stained Sentinel's robes yet. Her hair was soaked with red as well, though it was clear that someone had already tried to wash it out. The shape of her body was bent unnaturally, crushed by cannonfire, and her left arm twisted from her shoulder in some inhuman way. But her face was still recognizable, at least. She lay with her eyes closed, her features serene and beautiful. _Even in death_, Gareth thought sadly, _she is still all I could ever have dreamed of_. He touched her hand gently and continued to stare at her, longingly and yet hopelessly.

It was awhile before Kay put a hand on his shoulder.

"I am sorry, Gareth."

The Sentinel swallowed a lump in his throat. "It makes no sense," he said, turning to the Kay, "how could she have failed?"

"I do not know, my lord," Kay answered humbly, "the weapons of the Eight Armies were many."

Gareth shook his head. "But even so she would not have been overwhelmed. I know her well."

"They say she had stopped to help a child-"

"I do not want theories, Kay," Gareth said forcefully, "I need _answers_. And answers are the only thing I do not have right now."

"Perhaps she may have been distracted-"

"Speak no more!" Gareth snapped angrily. "Unless you were there yourself, your words are meaningless!"

Kay shut his mouth immediately, not wanting to infuriate the Sentinel any further. Gareth sighed.

"Forgive me, Kay," he said, "I am not in control of myself."

"It is I who should be forgiven," Kay insisted. "I spoke out of turn."

The Sentinel groaned and rubbed his forehead wearily. "What has the world come to, Kay?"

"If anyone can find us an answer to that question, it is you."

Gareth did not reply, but pulled the shroud back over the limp body. He adjusted his cloak and turned to the door, preparing to leave.

"I will arrange for her to be prepared for a Sentinel's funeral," Sir Kay told him.

Gareth nodded his thanks and strode out of the room, with Kay by his side.

"Will the boy see his mother?" asked Kay, toting his lantern as they moved back down the gloomy corridor.

"Not like this," Gareth said with a shake of his head.

Kay understood. "At the funeral, then?"

"Indeed."

They halted at the entrance to the temporary infirmary. Kay crossed his hands behind his back.

"I suppose you will not be needing an escort?"

"You have my thanks, but no," Gareth said. "I would prefer if I was... alone." He donned the hood of his cloak.

"Farewell, then, my friend," Kay bowed.

"Farewell."

Gareth exited the building, greeted at once by the rainy torrent outside. His steed was still there, snorting unhappily in the deluge. The Sentinel placed his foot sharply on the stirrup, and mounted swiftly. With a slap of the reins, he urged his horse through the streets. He listened to the pattering rain as he rode through the Outer Ring, until they reached the great wall that separated the Inner Ring. A heavy iron portcullis was in place, manned by a trio of guards - a measure that the Council had seen fit to take after the invasion.

A guard called for him to halt, but let him through quickly once he had identified himself. He galloped his way further into the Inner Ring. There were men hard at work transporting supplies and organizing repair crews, their torches and lanterns throwing their shadows along the flooded brick roads. A few of them hailed Gareth in passing, to which the Sentinel responded with a raised hand or nod.

But he did not slow his destrier until they had reached a pasture within the city, and the hard clack of his horse's shoes on stone turned into a quiet tread on dirt road. Gareth rode down the empty field in silence, for there was no one to speak to. In the distance, the lights of his house gleamed warmly.

He waited until he was deep into the plains, unseen were it not for the faint glow of the pale moon and stars. He slackened his hold on the reins, and held his drenched head up to the sky.

It was only then that he began to weep.

* * *

_The Southern Isles - The Royal Castle of Jur Rasaa - Present Day_

"Your Grace, may we present, His Worship the Baron of Endwall." The herald stooped low as he bowed to his liege, using a flourish of his hand to usher in the visitor.

The Baron strode forward, a puffy middle-aged man with a finely combed mustache and extravagantly styled hair. His expensive attire, a suit made of golden cloth and studded with ruby and sapphire, trailed on the cold marble floor as he flaunted inside.

King Nikolaus the Almighty sat on his throne, bedecked in his royal crown and uniform, leaning on the gilded armrest. His brother Lorenz stood at his feet, serving as adviser and member of his court.

"Kneel before King Nikolaus the Almighty, the Third of His Name, Ruler of the Northern Firth, and of Arran, and of Eigg, and of Rhum," announced Lorenz, who was called by others as the Blessed.

The Baron of Endwall had difficulty balancing his pudgy body on his knees, but managed to do so as he paid homage to the King. Nikolaus nodded to his brother, who addressed the herald at the door to the Royal Court.

"You may take your leave now," he ordered. The servant bowed once again and backed away until he left the room, just as the two guards at the entrance slammed the iron doors shut.

Once the man had left, Nikolaus rose from his seat of power and spoke to the Baron. "Rise, Alexander of Endwall," he said in a deep voice.

The fat noble struggled as he shuffled to his feet, but greeted the King and His Court nonetheless.

"It is an honor to see you again," Alexander turned to each member and named them individually, in order of their status.

"Master Balthasar." The third eldest brother, Balthasar the Enlightened made no reply, but stared at the Baron with knowing eyes.

"Lords Rune and Rasmus." The fifth and sixth brothers, twins almost impossible to tell apart, except that the nose of Rasmus was crooked.

"Prince Bjorn the Strong." Bjorn was the seventh, a great man with rippling muscles and a solemn face.

"Prince Lorenz the Blessed." The tenth brother was a man who stood at the foot of the throne nodded in response.

"Honored Princes Franz and Aron." Alexander called out to the eleventh and twelfth brothers. The former possessed a tall and lean figure, having the reputation of being an adept sword duelist. Aron the Scarred was a relatively short man, with a bad temper and a lip that was prone to curling in suspicion.

The last of the court remained unnamed. Hans the Unworthy's place was at the end of the table, closest to the door, and furthest from the King. Nikolaus' gaze passed over his youngest brother, but it did not linger long on the disgraced prince.

"But pray tell," said the Baron, "where are the rest of your esteemed brethren?"

"My second brother Fredrik is managing his province in the Northern Firth," answered King Nikolaus. "He will not return for a full moon's passing. Our fourth eldest is in Rhum, investigating rumors of a rebellion."

"A rebellion which you will crush if these rumors are true, of course, Your Grace," the Baron put in patronizingly.

"Indeed," agreed the King confidently. He looked to Lorenz. "Brother, where are the rest of our mother's sons?"

"Theo is off gorging himself in the kitchens," replied the tenth brother. "Though I am afraid I cannot say I know where Otto is."

"I can answer that for us," Prince Bjorn spoke up, a crude smile on his face. "He was last seen today at Willa's House."

"Get that whoring laggard out of that wench-house and back into Jur Rasaa at once," Nikolaus commanded angrily. Lorenz gestured to the assembly of Royal Guards, and a trio of them stepped forward and saluted crisply. They turned and marched out through the doors as they were opened again.

Baron Alexander watched as they left. "Your Grace," he beckoned to Nikolaus, "I believe you already know why I am here."

"I have my suspicions," the King answered. "But I am not certain. Perhaps it is best if you would state your business here."

The Baron scanned the faces of the royal brothers, and saw one or two that were confused. "Of course," he said, twirling his mustache.

"Have no fear of speaking private matters," Nikolaus assured him. "My brothers and I are all sworn to secrecy. As our father once said, Family Above All."

"The gods watch over his soul," Lorenz the Blessed intoned.

Alexander nodded, but he could not help but noting something else. "But Your Grace, what of your Royal Guard?"

"They cannot tell anyone anything," said Nikolaus. "A man without a tongue can speak no words."

The Baron's eyes widened slightly in surprise at the King's words.

"We cut them out upon their recruitment," Lorenz explained. "It is a commitment that all Royal Guards must undertake."

"I see," Alexander replied, still uncomfortable with the concept. "Well then, I suppose I shall relay to you the purpose of my visit."

A few members of the court nodded their approval. Alexander turned to them, raising his hands up ceremoniously.

"The time of the Inquisition has come again. Endwall and the Gantish Lands have already pledged their allegiance. It is time for us all to unite under the One True Banner."

Bjorn the Strong grunted. Rune and Rasmus shared a look. Lorenz glanced at Nikolaus, who stroked his clean-shaven chin.

"Why now?" The King asked.

"I believe you are aware with the current state of affairs regarding magic, Your Grace," Alexander said humbly.

"If you mean my esteemed brother's cavorting in Arendelle, then yes," Nikolaus answered, looking sharply at Hans, who averted his eyes from his eldest brother.

"He was sent there as a customary guest to attend the Queen's coronation," spoke Lord Rune, "though we now find that he had other plans in mind."

"And we thought Otto was the Trickster," grinned Rasmus. The other members of the Court laughed at his jest.

Prince Hans said nothing, but merely studied the table in front of him. Nikolaus sat back into his royal chair, observing his little brother. "He is disgraced on multiple grievances." He placed a finger to his mouth in thought. "The first of which, of course, was betraying the trust between our kingdom and Arendelle's. The second was his failure to eliminate this Queen of theirs."

"Not to mention that he was bested by a woman," rumbled Bjorn.

"The princess did not defeat me," protested Hans. "It was just an unfortunately-timed swing."

"She knocked you off of a ship later," Bjorn argued. Lords Rune and Rasmus sniggered at their brother's words.

Hans made no reply once again.

"We recognize your gallantry given the situation," Nikolaus said to Hans. "But in the end, your efforts were performed... imprudently, to say the least."

"There were reports that he had foiled the assassination attempt made by another member of the Inquisition," commented Alexander. "If I am correct, the Duke of Weselton had sent men to shoot down the Queen in her monstrous Ice Palace, but our good prince stopped them."

"The poor fool was too frightened and flustered to act himself," growled Hans. "I was the one who set plans in motion to neutralize the Queen's magic."

"Brother," Prince Aron spoke up with a scowl, "it is clear that you did not have only the Inquisition's interests at heart. Your plans were first crafted as your rise to power. Had you allowed the Snow Queen to be slain, instead of saving her for your own selfish ambition, this would have been a different story."

Hans glared at his older brother. They were born only a year apart, and had grown up together, but it could be said that they were the most different of all the brethren. Aron was surly and sour, with an ugly scar across his right eye that crumpled every time he frowned, while Hans had always been a cheerful, innocent lad, quick to laugh and slow to anger. Their differences had existed as a barrier between them since they were boys. But then again, it could not be said that any of Jur Rasaa's royal siblings were ever close to each other.

"If I may be so bold to ask," Alexander interrupted, "how is it that Prince Hans is still in court?"

"Regardless of his failure, he is still of my blood," answered Nikolaus, "and a member of my court. His actions were not severe enough for me to warrant his arrest or exile. And perhaps sometime there may still be an opportunity for him to redeem himself, through battle or service to the throne."

"That is unlikely," Lord Rasmus quipped.

"But the matter we must discuss now is not the alleged treason of our beloved Hans,"King Nikolaus reminded them. He addressed the Baron. "The Southern Isles has long been a devout follower of the Inquisition. If our fellow nations are gathering beneath the One True Banner, my brothers and I will gladly join this summons."

"We are thrilled to hear of your acceptance, O King Nikolaus the Almighty," Baron Alexander said. "I am sure you are willing to hear my report on our war against magic?"

"Certainly," Nikolaus agreed.

It was at this moment that the doors burst open and Prince Otto the Trickster was brought in by the Royal Guard, drunk and staggering like a child. The three armored men hailed their King with a wordless salute, and returned to their posts, leaving Otto standing alone at the entrance.

"Prince Hans," the King called to his youngest brother, "see to it at once that our venerable kin is escorted back to his council seat."

It was clear that the youthful prince was loathe to help the stumbling drinker anywhere, but he got up from his chair. Otto held up a hand to stop him.

"I can handle myself perfectly, sweet Hans," he insisted, his voice drowsy. The prince waddled slowly past his younger brothers and took his seat on the eighth spot.

"Your actions are a disgrace to the gods and our family," Prince Lorenz the Blessed scolded his older brother as he sat.

"Oh, but Lorenz, my brother," Otto grinned, "certainly I cannot be the cause of any shame amounting to more than that of our venerable Hans."

"Swine," Hans muttered under his breath.

King Nikolaus chose to ignore his brothers' bickering. Diverting his attention away from Otto, he spoke to Alexander again. "You may begin, Your Worship."

The Baron cleared his throat. "As we discussed, a month ago Queen Elsa of Arendelle revealed herself to be the Sentinel of Ice, or so she would be, if she were under the tutelage of Valhalla. For reasons that we do not know, our enemy never discovered her existence, or failed to recruit her in their pagan ways."

"This we know," Nikolaus said.

Alexander nodded. "If you will recall with me, Your Majesty, the Sentinel of Earth vanished two decades ago without a trace at Baron's Watch."

The princes of the Southern Isles all gave signs of their agreement, with the exception of Otto, who stared blankly into space. The Baron continued on.

"Our spies in Valhalla have just informed us that Gareth Halcyon has been executed by the Council of Five for serious crimes. His son fled the city soon after, disappearing just as the Sentinel of Earth had. That accounts for both Earth and Fire."

"And with Queen Elsa so far North," Nikolaus said, understanding the Baron's words, "Valhalla has the defense of only one Sentinel."

"Indeed," Alexander smiled. "In the past, we suspected that Valhalla had been keeping their Sentinel of Ice in secret. We see now with the Queen of Arendelle that this is not the case. They have only one young Sentinel of Air. One that we can easily break if we amassed our armies once more."

Bjorn the Strong pounded his fist on the table in accord. "This is our chance to wipe out the power that magic has had on this world. Let us march our armies to Valhalla, and rid ourselves of those hellspawn."

"Patience, good Bjorn," Alexander said politely. "Remember that our sole purpose in the Inquisition is to cleanse humanity of all magic. Valhalla itself is not our target, only its Sentinels. With the Sentinel of Air already hiding behind the Great City's walls, we have decided that it would be best to remove our more vulnerable enemy first."

"Queen Elsa," Hans answered for them.

King Nikolaus stroked his beardless chin again out of habit. "Arendelle has close to no military power," he said, "our forces would crush them easily, even if the Snow Queen tried to protect her kingdom."

Balthasar the Enlightened voiced his opinion. "It is not Arendelle that we fear," he spoke in a whispery voice, "it is the wrath of her allies that we do not want to face. They have strong ties with Frankland, Etalia, Corona, the combined might of which we cannot withstand without severe casualties."

"And as you know well," Nikolaus said, "it is unlikely that an assassination will work against someone possessing magic."

The Baron nodded in understanding, as did most of the King's brothers. But it was Prince Otto who disagreed.

"And why is that, brother?" He drawled with a mischievous look on his face.

"You will address the King with the proper respect he is due," reprimanded Lorenz sternly.

"Peace, Lorenz," Nikolaus waved his hand in dismissal. "Otto, brother, tell me what you mean."

The drunken prince gave a toothy grin. "This council says that a Sentinel cannot be slain by a single, ordinary man, or even by a group of assassins. I would beg to differ."

"Be silent, Otto," Prince Hans said officiously. "Don't make a fool of yourself."

Otto paid no heed to his youngest brother. "Our cherished brother Hans made the mistake of revealing his intentions before the kill," he said to the rest of the court. "Wisdom dictates that if our assassin is to be successful, he does not do this."

"You are implying exactly what an assassin is to be," Prince Franz said incredulously.

"And it does not matter how prudent our man is in his venture," Lord Rasmus spoke up as well, "a Sentinel's magic will protect them from harm, whether by ranged or close-quarter attack. If the first attempt fails, it will only serve to frighten the Queen into establishing increased security around herself. Assassination is not an option.

"All I am simply saying," Otto said, rising from his chair, "is that if you leave this matter to me, I can assure you that the Queen will be neutralized before the turn of the month."

"And how will you accomplish this?" Lord Rasmus questioned him. "Tell us brother, if not by blade or by dart, how will you slay our Sentinel?"

Otto laughed. "Why, I cannot reveal all of my secrets, dear brother," he smiled. "After all, I _am _the Trickster."

The room was quiet. The Baron scanned the table of faces, searching for their opinion. Prince Hans eyed the eight eldest brother suspiciously. Baron Alexander could see why. If Otto was to succeed as he claimed, Hans would fall further from the King's favor.

Balthasar broke the silence. "Your Majesty, I would advise against this. It is merely a futile attempt for our wayward brother to try his luck in-"

Nikolaus held up a hand. "Be still, Balthasar." He switched positions in his throne, clearly pondering the issue.

"As it stands," Otto said, "I believe I am already in possession of a disadvantageous repute. If I were to be discovered, it would not be a difficult choice for our esteemed family to denounce me. The other alternative would be Prince Hans, but we all know the Queen would recognize him in an instant."

The King straightened his back and lifted his head up in interest. "Yes," he said slowly, "Otto's words do have some merit."

"You cannot be serious, m'lord," Bjorn the Strong said in surprise. "To disgrace our own brother?"

"He is disgraced as it is," Nikolaus countered. "It will not be too far of a step to allow this. Besides," he said, rubbing the armrest on his throne, "it is in the interest of the Inquisition. Duty dictates such sacrifice."

"Spoken like a true king, Your Majesty," Baron Alexander replied readily.

"I assume then, that you have no qualms against this arrangement?" King Nikolaus asked the chubby Baron.

"I do not," bowed Alexander.

"My liege, I urge you to reconsider," Balthasar insisted.

"Enough," Nikolaus said firmly, "your King has made his decision. Prince Otto will settle this issue."

Bjorn opened his mouth to reply, but said nothing. Hans crossed his arms and placed them at his chest, his face drawn with unhappiness. Rune and Rasmus looked at each other once again. Franz twirled his finger lazily around the patterns on the council's table, and Aron brooded quietly next to him.

Nikolaus surveyed the room, looking for any further signs of dissent. "If there is nothing more to be discussed, then I hereby dismiss this court for the day. Lorenz, show the Baron to my study. We have other private matters to outline, and I have questions I want answered."

"Certainly, m'lord."

He smiled. "Now be of cheer, my brothers. Today is a great day. The Inquisition has risen again."

Baron Alexander knelt to the ground. "For the Purity of Mankind."

"For the Purity of Mankind."

* * *

**Thank You For Reading. Please Review.**


	10. Dead End

**Chapter 10: Dead End**

**Author's Note: I would just like to point out that the world this fictional work takes place in is inspired by our own, but does not resemble it closely. Thank you for your support, it's been greatly appreciated. Please Review. All comments and criticisms are welcome.**

* * *

_Castle Arendelle - Present Day_

_Father-_

Arthur burst forth from his bed, gasping for breath as he awoke. He gulped air desperately as he clutched the sheets in panic. The pain in his lungs soon began to subside, and Arthur calmed down. He slid his legs off the side and sat on the edge of the bed, breathing slowly. The fireplace had died.

_Another dream_,_ it was nothing_, he thought to himself. _It__ was nothing__. _He glanced out the window. The night was still late.

His face and hands glistened with sweat; his linen nightclothes were soaked; his red hair a matted mess. He rose shakily from the bedframe and shuffled toward the dressing table. His knees felt weak.

He had been plagued with nightmares ever since the execution. Arthur had hoped that things would have changed once he arrived in Arendelle; the past two nights here for him had been peaceful. But tonight, the dreaded dreams had made their return.

And Arthur did not know why.

"Damn it!" He slammed his palm down on the table with gritted teeth. The ruby dragon his father had given him wobbled from the impact, making a quiet rattle. Arthur turned his attention to it.

It was something his father had given him on his tenth birthday. A family heirloom.

_"You're halfway a man now," _Gareth had slapped him on the shoulder, _"you deserve this."_

Arthur had asked his father why it was a dragon.

_"Dragons are tenacious beasts. They will never give up, never submit to man," _his father had answered. _"When our ancestor slew the terrible drake of the_ _West_,_ he showed that he was stronger than even the dragons. This ruby is for us to remember that no matter what, we will have the strength to prevail."_

Arthur picked up the dragon and rubbed it tenderly with his fingers. "What strength do I have, father?" he said quietly. "I'm just a child in the world of men, faltering in the darkness."

Then his legs buckled, and he had to grab onto the dressing table to keep standing. His chest hurt.

_It's the air, _he told himself, _I need to go outside._

He pushed himself away from the table and stumbled out of the room, not bothering to close the door behind him. Frosted glass lamps lit the hallway as he blundered his way through the palace. There was supposed to be a balcony on this floor.

Arthur found it, a translucent door with crisscrossed patterns of cloth. It was already open, but Arthur did not care. He staggered past the doorway, coughing violently, and fell to his knees, sucking in the cool Northern air with closed eyes. He pressed his hands to the stone floor and hung his head, feeling his energy returning.

A high-pitched yell made him give a start. Arthur snapped his head up to see a young woman pushed up against the banister. He recognized her immediately.

"Princess Anna," he said in surprise. "Forgive me." He glanced down at his tussled and sweat-drenched clothes. "I realize I'm not... presentable."

The princess was dressed in a nightgown shaded green, which seemed to be her favorite color, for the silken cloak on her shoulders was dyed verdant as well. "Sorry," she said apologetically, and released her hold on the railing, "I didn't expect you to be here."

"I just needed some fresh air." Arthur adjusted his collar and stood up. She looked at him up and down.

"You don't look too good."

"I had a rough time sleeping," he answered as offhandedly as he could. The agony in his chest had faded away. "What are you doing out here in the middle of the night?"

The princess smiled, but he could tell that his presence was making her slightly uncomfortable. She pointed skyward, and Arthur's gaze followed her finger to see a brilliant array of blue-green shimmers in the air.

He realized that they had been there the entire night. It was only now that he was fully aware of them.

"The Northern Lights," Anna told him. "I can _never_ sleep when they're out."

"They're beautiful," Arthur said in wonder. He watched the light shift back and forth between colors. In all his life, he had never seen something so simple, yet so stunning at the same time. "What in the world could make such a thing?"

"There used to be a story my mother told me at bedtime," said Anna. "About how a spirit gave them to us because it was so dark up North." She shrugged. "Of course, Kristoff doesn't believe any of that. He thinks it's the changing of seasons that makes it happen, even though it's the middle of summer."

Arthur finally turned his mind away from the Northern Lights.

"And what about you?" he looked at Anna.

She gave another shrug, though this time with a timid laugh. "I don't know, maybe it's got something to do with the moon."

"Hm." Arthur stared back at the sky thoughtfully. In Valhalla, he had been taught that the spirits had bestowed onto mankind many things as gifts. But was this one of them?

His speculations were interrupted when Anna cleared her throat. She spoke cautiously.

"Look, my sister never meant you any harm when she had you arrested."

Arthur's mouth curled into a smile. "Didn't she?"

"No," Anna insisted. "Elsa never wanted anyone to get hurt; she was just scared for the kingdom. After Prince Hans tried to take over-"

"I understand," replied Arthur. "What's done is done. I don't hold grudges." It was the first time he had ever said something like that. He wondered if it were true.

But the princess seemed to believe his words.

"Thanks," she said in a relieved tone.

"She believed my claim, after all," Arthur continued, "and let me stay in your palace for nothing in return. Judging from her past history with foreigners, she's been very generous."

"Well, you _are _teaching her how to use her magic," reasoned Anna.

Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly the palace was plunged into complete darkness. Only the glimmer of the moon and the Northern Lights illuminated the balcony. Anna twisted her head toward the door in confusion.

"What's going on?" she said in panic.

Arthur scanned the blackened windows alongside the balcony. "Is this supposed to happen?" he asked.

"I don't think so," the princess replied.

Then something echoed through the halls and out into the open. A scream.

Anna gasped. "That's Elsa!"

Arthur's senses started to rouse as he became alert. "Where is she?"

"In her room, down there," said Anna, pointing. "It's the only one in that corridor."

"Go find the guards," he instructed her. "I'll go see what's wrong."

"No, I'm coming with you," Anna demanded.

Arthur didn't feel like arguing. "Come then." He strode into the palace quickly, waving his hand to respark the lamps on the walls, filling the corridor with light. The screams had stopped, but now the hallways were filled with disorganized shouting and calls as the castle staff began to wake. As they turned the corner, Anna broke into a run and dashed past Arthur.

"Elsa!" she cried as she reached the bedroom door and pushed herself against it.

The Queen's voice came from behind the thick wood, frantic and muffled. "Anna!"

"Open the door!" shouted Anna. She leaned her full body's weight forward.

"It might be unlocked," Arthur said, grasping the silver handle.

"Oh right," said Anna sheepishly, "I forgot about that."

True enough, the door swung open, and the two of them rushed inside. The light from the hallway poured in through the entrance to reveal Elsa sitting up on her bed, her back shoved against the headboard. She looked at them with fear-filled eyes.

"Don't come in here!" she shouted.

But their attention was already on something else.

"What_ is _that!?" Anna said._  
_

Arthur was not sure either. On the other side of the room stood a freakish creature, the size of a man and made of frost and snow, with huge white claws on each hand and foot. A spike of ice was embedded in its shoulder, but the ice monster seemed unfazed by the wound. It leveled its eyes at the two newcomers and roared, exposing a row of razor-sharp teeth.

_No, _Arthur thought, _it can't be_.

"I can't control it!" Elsa called to them from her bed, her voice shaking.

Arthur could see the hysteria on her face. "Calm down," he said. "Did you make this thing?"

The Queen nodded. Arthur kept his eyes on the vicious snowman. It snarled at Elsa and inched toward her.

She drew back in fright and tried to down it with another shard of ice to its chest, but to no effect.

"That's not going to work," Arthur said urgently, "you need to remember what I told you earlier today - command it with your will."

"I can't do it," said Elsa wildly, almost to the point of tears. "It's not working!"

"It _will _work, I promise that," Arthur told her. "Focus your mind on _being your element_."

He watched the creature move closer towards the Queen, readying itself in a pouncing position._  
_

Anna saw it as well. "Elsa!" she shrieked and ran for her sister.

"Leave her alone!" she cried and placed herself between the Queen and the monster.

The creature bounded forward, with claws extended and fangs bared, but Arthur jumped and intercepted it with a swift flaming kick. The blow plowed through the monster's side, and disintegrated it into a cloud of snow.

Arthur brought his foot down as Anna scooped her sister into her arms.

"Are you hurt?" she asked with concern.

The Queen's eyes were filled with tears. "No, I'm not," she said and hugged her sister back. "I'm... I'm so sorry."

"What's all this?" A new voice appeared in the room.

They turned to see Kristoff at the door, standing with two guardsmen who had their weapons drawn. He looked questioningly at Elsa and Anna, then diverted his gaze to Arthur, and finally at the snowy mess on the floor.

The red-head regarded Kristoff. "There was some trouble," he said quietly. "But... I took care of it."

"We heard screams," said the Ice-Master. "And then the lights went out."

"The screams were Her Majesty's," Arthur informed him. "The darkness was the result of chaotic magic."

Two elderly women of the castle staff appeared at the entrance and pushed past the guards. They looked distressed at the scene before them.

"Girls, what on earth happened?" One of them asked anxiously in a shrill voice, holding her hand to her chest.

"Has she been hurt?" The other hurried over to Elsa and placed the back of her fingers on the Queen's forehead.

Elsa, still cradled by her younger sister, shook her head firmly, but she seemed exhausted. "No, I haven't been, thanks to Arthur."

Kristoff walked further into the room and knelt by Anna. "So what happened?" he asked.

Arthur was silent. He had bent down to sift his hand through the white snow on the ground. Seeing that he was giving no answer, Anna decided to reply.

"I'm not sure," she said truthfully, "I was on one of the balconies and I heard her scream, and the lights went out. When I got here, there was some sort of thing... some snowman."

"Olaf?" said Kristoff. She shook her head.

"No," she replied, "this one looked like it was ready to kill someone. Like a smaller, angrier, Marshmallow." She glanced at Elsa, looking to see if she could provide more.

"I didn't mean for it to happen," Elsa said dejectedly. "It's never been like this before. I'm sorry, everyone."

Anna realized that Kristoff and the others were still confused. "Arthur had come out of his room too," she explained. "He arrived here the same time as I did. The snowman tried to attack Elsa, but he knocked it out."

"We are indebted to you, Arthur," one of the servant women told the squatting figure. The rest of the people around her looked at him gratefully, but he did not accept their thanks.

"No, you aren't," he said softly, rising from his crouch.

"But you just saved Elsa," replied Anna.

Arthur looked into his open palm, where a smattering of snow still remained. "You don't understand," he told them. "I fear that I may been the cause of what happened here tonight." He clenched his fist, and the snow puffed out from his hand and drift to the ground, as every other soul in the room looked at each other in bewilderment.

* * *

_Castle Arendelle - Present Day_

Pabbie nestled comfortably in his chair next to the dining room's fireplace, with a silken blanket draped over him. Arthur had not chosen to seat himself so luxuriously, instead resting on a wooden bench. The Queen reclined on a chair like Pabbie's, beside Anna and Kristoff.

"Are you sure we should be here?" asked Kristoff, with his hand around Anna's shoulder.

Arthur glanced at Pabbie for his reply. The troll gave a nod of affirmation. "I am sure. It is best that you and Anna are also aware of what we mean to tell the Queen now."

"So what is it you wish to tell us?" said Elsa. She had recovered from tonight's ordeal through the comfort of her sister and friends, but she was still embarrassed by her actions.

Arthur responded, turning his eyes to her. "Pabbie and I are concerned whether you want to continue training or not."

The Queen opened her mouth to speak, but she dropped her gaze from his in shame. "I'm sorry. I've failed you."

"You misunderstand," Arthur shook his head and got up from his seat. "You didn't fail me at all. What happened tonight was a result of me being the fool that I am."

Seeing their befuddled faces, Pabbie spoke up. "What he is saying, is that your enraged snowman was his fault."

But this served only to increase their bafflement. Anna blinked in confusion. "What?" she said. Next to her, Elsa frowned.

"I don't understand."

"When you started to channel your magic through willpower," Arthur said, starting to pace the room, "you began to be able to unwillingly create replicas of your dreams and thoughts. Since ice has the special ability to create life, the snowman became an animate creature. And in this case, you must have had a nightmare of some sort."

Elsa lifted up her head. "Yes, I did," she said quietly.

"I knew that this issue was to come," said Arthur, "but I hadn't realized that it would happen so soon. Or that anyone could have gotten hurt." He sighed, and looked at Elsa remorsefully. "I should have warned you, and for that, I apologize, to you," his eyes darted to Kristoff and Anna, "and everyone else."

"I'm fine, actually," Kristoff raised his hands in atonement.

Anna nodded in agreement.

"You don't need to apologize," said Elsa, "you saved my life."

"It would not have needed saving had I acted more sensibly," replied Arthur.

The Queen smiled.

"There is nothing to forgive," she told him.

They were words he had told her before. But Arthur sighed and touched the bridge of his nose. "You might not say that if you knew what I was going to tell you next."

Elsa was puzzled again. "Why is that?"

He looked at her. "The fact is, I did not agree to teach you out of friendship or benevolence."

"I never assumed-"

"You read my letter, did you not?"

"Yes, but-"

Arthur folded his arms. "Then you should know that I'm not on vacation here."

"Your friend said something about armies and enemies," said Elsa, still trying to understand.

"And what do armies and enemies _mean_?" Arthur asked. Elsa did not know what to say.

Grand Pabbie saved her, pushing his blanket aside and sliding off his chair. "He means to say that the he and I at war with Valhalla," he spoke. Anna, Elsa, and Kristoff looked at him with surprise.

"War?" repeated Elsa in alarm.

"Not yet," said Arthur, "but close to it."

"But... what need would you have to come here?" she asked.

"To gather up the rest of those who could use magic," replied Arthur.

Kristoff was the first to understand what he was saying. But he did not like what he was hearing.

"Wait, you say that like there's more of you in Arendelle than Queen Elsa."

Grand Pabbie smiled. "You're a bright boy, Kristoff. Tell me you haven't figured it out yet."

Kristoff studied his face. "I'm not sure if I have."

"You're on the right track," said Arthur. Kristoff looked at him. Then back at Pabbie. He gave a derisive laugh.

"I don't believe it. First you tell me you're at war. And now you tell me you're one of them?"

"It's true," Grand Pabbie said sincerely.

The Ice Deliverer dropped his mocking grin, and stepped back and frowned.

"You mean... all this time...?"

"All this time."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Grand Pabbie walked to Kristoff and patted his hand. "You didn't need to know."

"But I'm-"

"Family?" said Pabbie, shaking his head. "No one else in our tribe knows of this except for Bulda."

"Why?"

"She's my daughter."

Kristoff froze. "Wait a minute... Does that mean..." His voice faltered. "No," he said firmly. "That's just... no."

"HANG on a sec!" yelled Anna. "What is going on? You guys sound _crazy_!"

Kristoff turned to her. "He's one of them."

She shrugged skeptically. "Like... Elsa and Arthur?"

"Yeah, like them," nodded Kristoff.

Anna stared at Pabbie in thought. Then her face lit up. "Oh, that make's _perfect sense_! That's why Arthur came here to find him!"

"I didn't come here just to find Grand Pabbie," said Arthur.

He turned to Elsa, who had been silent all this while. She looked back at him. "So you were training me," she said softly, "because you wanted me to help you fight your war?"

Arthur stared directly into her eyes. Kristoff and Anna stopped talking and watched the two of them.

"Will you?" he asked her. But he already knew her answer.

Elsa glimpsed at her hands. "No..." she said, appalled by the idea, "I can't. I've tried all my life not to hurt anybody. How could I ever fight someone?"

"It's for a good cause," Arthur said gently. "Valhalla has become so corrupted it's a problem for the entire world. It will affect Arendelle too, you would be helping your own kingdom."

Elsa turned away. "I've been nothing but trouble for my kingdom."

"No, you haven't been," Arthur insisted, "your people love you. You've opened your gates for them, you bring them joy, you bring them comfort."

"And I'll be bringing them war if I help you," said Elsa, with pain in her voice. "I've hurt my people enough already."

"Thousands, _tens_ of thousands of people will die in poverty and disgrace across the world if we don't act. And we need all the help we can get. Please," Arthur implored her. "Please consider this."

Elsa closed her eyes. "I have to protect my kingdom. I can't do this. I'm sorry."

Arthur took a peek at Pabbie, who shook his head sadly. The Sentinel of Fire's shoulders slumped.

"I can't force you," he told her. "I understand your reasons."

The Queen looked at him remorsefully. "You and Pabbie are still welcome to stay here as long as you want. You've been very good to us, both of you." She folded her hands and bit her lip. "But I can't help you with this," she said shakily. "You'll have to find someone else. Good night."

She stood from her chair and started to leave the room.

"Elsa," Anna called after her sister, but the Queen ignored her and exited the dining area.

When she was gone, Anna walked up to Arthur. She wrung her hands humbly.

"I'm sorry Elsa won't help you," she said, "but I just wanted to thank you for what you said to her, about how much she's done for us. She's a good person, I hope you know that."

Arthur was still disappointed, but he nodded in response. "What you did to protect your sister earlier tonight was brave."

"And stupid," she quipped. "I just couldn't let her get attacked by that... monster thing."

Kristoff strode up to Anna's side. The Ice-Master shrugged at Arthur. "Well, I think I'm still kinda in shock." He laughed. "A lot of things happened tonight." He quietened down and looked at Pabbie. "So... if you're all magical and stuff... which one are you?"

Pabbie chuckled. "You still haven't figured it out?"

"You mind showing me a bit of earth-making, then?" asked Kristoff.

"Not inside. Maybe tomorrow."

Kristoff sighed. "All right." He placed his arm around Anna again. "And um, I'm sorry things didn't work out for you guys."

"Thanks," Arthur said dejectedly.

"Well," said Anna, trying to sound cheerful, "good night. Maybe you guys could show us some stuff about fire, huh?"

Arthur shook his head. "Perhaps some other time." Pabbie bade them a good night's rest as the couple walked out of the dining room slowly, leaving the two Sentinels alone. Grand Pabbie looked at Arthur.

The young man collapsed into a chair. "Damn," he said wearily, "_damn_. What do we do now?"

* * *

_Castle Arendelle - Present Day_

They sat in silence until morning. Pabbie had fallen asleep in his chair, with his blanket spread over him once again, but this time in the form of a rock. He awoke as sunlight poured into the room and rested on his skin. Mumbling sleepily, he unfurled himself and peered around the room. Arthur was still seated at his bench. The boy had not slept a wink all night after their meeting with the Queen. Pabbie eyed his untidy clothes and his tangled rose-colored hair.

"You look horrible," he said gruffly.

Arthur looked up at Pabbie. Dark rings circled his eyes, making his youthful features look haggard. His face bore the look of defeat, and his hunched shoulders made it seem even more so. When he spoke, his voice was faint.

"What am I doing here, Pabbie?"

The troll gave a sad sigh and joined him on the bench. "You tried your best. We may yet have another chance to convince her."

The boy's laugh was acrimonious. "She's right, you know. Why should she help us? I can't even help her."

Pabbie's knees groaned in protest as he sat down. He observed Arthur. "You cannot possibly believe that she would have warmed to our cause so quickly?"

"I don't know," Arthur admitted. "I thought that she would have at least sympathized with us."

"She did," Pabbie said as he dusted Arthur's habit. The boy squinted back at him.

"Then why didn't she agree to help us?" he whispered.

"The same reason she did not kill you when she read your letter, and let you go so easily afterward," said Pabbie. "She doesn't want to hurt anybody. She said so herself."

"Maybe. But maybe not," Arthur shrugged lightly. "She took me in when I got here for the first time, and I was a complete stranger to her. She's trusting."

"She gave you her hospitality because she was obliged to," said Pabbie.

"Why?" Arthur scoffed. "I'm not nobility."

"You are close to it," Pabbie replied. "Besides, you were a lone foreigner arriving at a quiet time. Queen Elsa did not have the stomach to reject you."

"What does it matter now?" Arthur asked him. "Without her, we cannot defeat Imperius. And if we cannot defeat Imperius, we cannot defeat the Council."

Pabbie thought for a while. "Is there no way to convince Imperius to join us?"

Arthur shook his head silently. "He is too deep into his father's politics to be fooled or persuaded. And now that he has mastered his element, he is a dangerous man." He paused, and an idea struck him. His lips creased into a bitter smile. "I just realized. I'm the only Sentinel alive now who hasn't mastered the final stage of their element."

"Don't think too much of it," Pabbie tried to encourage him, but Arthur was already explaining.

"I've never been able summon lightning once in my life. And here is Queen Elsa of Arendelle, who hasn't had a single day of training, spawning living snowmen in her sleep. Why should I be teaching her?"

"If it makes you feel any better," Pabbie said, "it took me thirty years to master my own element."

Arthur tried to smile, but he sighed and buried his face in his arms. "I've been thinking of a thousands ways that I could have told her better."

Grand Pabbie rubbed the ache out of his ancient knees. "In our lives we often look back on the things we have said and the deeds we have committed. Sometimes we look upon them with regret. But it does us no good to sit there and think of our mistakes in the past."

"So what should I do?" asked Arthur quietly.

"Stay in Arendelle, continue to train the Queen, and earn her trust," said Pabbie. "In time, perhaps she will understand the gravity of our situation."

"We don't. Have. Time." Arthur said slowly.

Pabbie leaned close. "We have no _options_," he replied strongly. "We are at a dead end. You have to continue to train her and make do with the circumstances, until we can convince her to help us."

"If she will have me train her," Arthur mumbled.

"For some reason I feel as though she may," said Pabbie. But Arthur was not listening. The red-headed youth lifted his chin up and stared into one of the dining room's windows. The colors of the day streamed in through the glass pane.

"Somewhere, far away, my friend is risking his life for us," he muttered. "Out there in the world, our enemies are everywhere, even where we think we are the safest. He could be betrayed at any moment. And here I am, sitting in Arendelle's Royal Palace, prancing around with the Queen."

Pabbie patted him gently on the shoulder. "Your friend is very brave. But we all must make sacrifices."

"Sacrifices." Arthur gave a sore smile. "It seems as though I am the only one who does not have to make any. Does that mean that I am blessed, or does it make me a coward?"

"You have made sacrifices of your own," said Pabbie. "Perhaps some even greater than others will ever do."

"I doubt that, if we are never to convince Queen Elsa to join us," Arthur replied. "We can make no progress if she still refuses to help."

"Give her time," said Pabbie.

"I have power. I have knowledge. But time... Time is what I do not have," Arthur said in fatigue. He continued to look outside the window, and started to doze off as he watched the birds outside sing the first hours of morning away.


	11. Friends, Family, and Favor

**Chapter 11: Friends, Family, and Favor**

**Please Review**

**Author's Note: **Hey guys! I just wanted to thank you all for your support! My general plotline is already laid out, but the nitty-gritty details are pretty flexible. So, with that said, what would you guys like to see more of?

1. Flashbacks/Memories/Backstory about things in Valhalla?

2. More 'Present Day' scenes with Arthur, Elsa, Pabbie, and the gang?

3. Southern Isles politics?

4. Anything else?

Sound off in your reviews!

* * *

_Castle Arendelle - Present Day_

Anna laid sideways, sleeping soundly on her plush mattress until a small voice invaded her slumber.

"Hey, Anna?"

The calling of her name woke her slowly. She tried to open her eyes, but could not find the strength to do so.

"Anna, it's me, Olaf."

Anna forehead creased in loose concentration. "Olaf?" she murmured sleepily. "Oh... what are you doing here so early?"

"It's been two hours past breakfast."

_Two hours__? _She let out a tired groan and her eyelids pried themselves open.

Olaf was so close to her that his eyes seemed almost as big as moons. But perhaps what was more striking was that his pointy carrot of a nose, which was suspended only inches from her face. Bits of snow from the cloud above his head danced nimbly to the floor. Some landed on the violet bedcovers, but were reabsorbed by the snowman before they could wet the fabric.

"Good morning," Olaf peeped with a lopsided grin.

"Mmmph," Anna mumbled as she sat up and massaged her exhausted eyes. "Hey Olaf."

"Your hair's kind of a mess," the snowman commented with concern.

"Yeah it... it happen's all the time." She yawned.

Olaf looked at her sincerely. "Um, do you... kind of want to sleep some more? I can wait if you want."

"No, it's fine," said Anna. "I'm up." She waggled herself off of the bed and stretched her back. "Ooh."

"So, um," Olaf twiddled his wooden fingers, "what happened last night? There was a whole ton of like shouting and stuff. But the lights went out so I couldn't go inside to see."

Anna walked to her dressing table and picked up a brush. She turned to Olaf quizzically. "Wait, where were you?"

"Oh me?" He placed a hand on his torso. "I was at the stables, hanging out with Sven. Did you know he likes eating apples now?"

"Apples?" said Anna, trying to straighten out her hair. "Since when?"

Olaf doddered up to her side. "Well that new horse, what was her name? Mara? She eats a whole bunch of 'em, and now Sven's into it too."

Anna laughed and looked at Olaf through the mirror. "Sven and a horse?"

The snowman was perplexed.

"What?" he asked, flopping his arms up and down.

"Nothing," replied Anna, "I just thought it was funny, that's all."

"Sven and Mara?" Olaf frowned in confusion. "Oh, it's nothing like you and Kristoff."

"No, no, that's not what I was saying," giggled Anna. Her laugh turned into an annoyed grunt as her brush got caught in a knot of hair. With a great heave, she tugged hard and cleared it. "I was just thinking it was kinda cute, you know," she said, waving her brush around, "a horse and a reindeer as friends."

"Uh, well..." Olaf moved away from her and hopped onto a nearby chair. "So what happened last night?" he asked again, playing with his stubby feet.

Anna tilted her head as she continued to comb her hair. "Um, why don't you go ask Kristoff?" she said lightly.

"He said I should come ask you."

"Really?" Anna asked, surprised. "What about Elsa?"

Olaf shook his head. "Her bedroom door's locked, she hasn't come out."

Anna stopped brushing and looked at Olaf. "Did you ask her if you could talk?"

"I did," Olaf replied. "But she didn't say anything back.." Anna said nothing and faced the mirror, her mind troubled. It sounded suspiciously like what her sister often did before her coronation. After last night's incident, Anna feared that Elsa would start secluding herself again. And Arthur's request for her to join his 'war' had not helped much either. _Hopefully she'll get through it, _Anna told herself. She snapped out of her thoughts when she heard Olaf's voice again._  
_

"Anna?"

"Oops," she responded, and continued to sort out her hair, "sorry Olaf. It's kind of hard to explain, a lot of things happened last night."

"Like what?" Olaf asked, spreading his arms out. "I'm all ears."

"Oh, nothing that _dramatic _or _interesting_," Anna replied, trying to sound casual. "Elsa just had some trouble with her magic, that's all. No biggie."

"Is everything okay, then?" Olaf asked.

"Yeah," Anna assured him, "of course. It's just..." She wiggled her shoulders as she tried to find the right words. "A passing thing, you know?"

"Well, that's good to know!" Olaf plopped off the chair and waddled toward her. "Are you gonna have breakfast?"

Anna clutched at her stomach. "I'm famished." She finished with her brush and snatched up a green ribbon from the dressing table, but decided against binding up her hair. _I'll braid it_ _instead_, she resolved. A noisy clatter behind her made her swing around. Olaf was rummaging through her wardrobe.

"Olaf, what are you doing?"

"Here!" The snowman emerged triumphantly, holding up a dark red blouse in one hand and a pale green skirt in the other. Anna smiled and walked up to him.

"I can't go out wearing this," she laughed and plucked the clothes gently from his hand. "Why don't you let me choose the outfit, and I'll let you make my bed," she told him, putting the unlikely combination of colors back into the wardrobe.

"I don't think that's too good of a deal."

"Then go stand guard by the door. I need to get changed." She selected an olive dress and moved behind the panel screen. The opening and closing of her door told Anna that Olaf had followed her suggestion.

When she had finished, Anna made her way to the kitchens, with Olaf walking in front of her. She stopped as she passed by Elsa's room. _Should I knock_? she asked herself, her knuckles instinctively raised to the door. _No, she'll be back to normal soon_, she ensured herself and withdrew her hand. _  
_

She saw a servant by the name of Benjamin standing by the top of the stairway, clad in the standard lime-green suit, with a silken scarf tucked underneath. He bowed curtly in greeting as she approached. "Good morning, Your Highness."

Anna replied in kind. "Morning, Ben."

"Have you been rested well?" he asked her with a subservient smile.

"Yeah, I'm okay."

"And will Her Majesty be about shortly?"

Anna glanced at the corridor behind her. "Um, I don't know. She shouldn't be long." Somehow she doubted her own statement.

The man nodded, still smiling. "Very good, Your Highness."

She curtsied to him and proceeded down the stairs with Olaf. Around the palace, business resumed like nothing had ever happened. Servants were about as usual, chatting to each other as they polished suits of armor and dusted furniture and carrying bundles of laundry. As she crossed the hall, Anna could see that though it was well past the morning's mealtime, the Dining Room was bustling with activity. There were castle staff everywhere, carting assortments of food and wines into the kitchens. The noise in the room was tremendous. Trays and plates clanged against each other as servants called out to each other.

"What's going on?" Anna asked Olaf. The snowman shrugged.

"It wasn't like this when I left," he answered innocently. Anna looked around and spied Kristoff in a corner with Kai, who was holding an inventory list of some sort. She made her way towards them, ducking under a huge roll of velvet hefted by two servants. Olaf trundled behind her, glancing back and forth in fascination at the various items being transported around him.

"Kristoff!" Anna shouted above the din. The blond-headed Ice Deliverer's eyes perked up when he saw her. He spread his arms out and drew her in for a hug as she approached.

"Anna, you're finally up," he said.

"What's all this?" she inquired, scanning the roomful of busy servants.

Kai cleared his throat and put the inventory list aside. "We've just received a new shipment from Etalia for your birthday celebration," he explained.

"From Etalia?" Anna repeated excitedly. "Did you guys get what I wanted?"

"We got roast beef, roast pork, roast chicken, roast goose, roast everything," Kristoff told her with a smile. "And loads of strawberries. And chocolate."

"What about the ice cream?" she asked quickly. From behind, Olaf nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, what about the ice cream? Wait, if a snowman eats ice cream, is that sort of like cannibalism?" He scratched his stumpy hair and looked to Kristoff for an answer.

The Ice-Master grinned and shook his head. "I have no idea. But the ice cream did get here. We've already put it with the stuff I got from the North Mountain, so it should keep cold until next week."

"Awesome!" Anna yelled and kissed him on the cheek. It was then that Gerda appeared. She seemed to be one of the few servants exempt from taking care of the new items.

"Would you care for some food, Your Highness?" she said, folding her hands before her plump body.

"Yeah, I'm _starving_," Anna replied, still elated from the news.

"We have buttered pancakes, ham sandwiches, bacon, salads, venison from up North-"

"I think I'll have some pancakes," Anna decided. "Six. No seven."

"Seven?" echoed Kristoff. She flashed a smile at him.

"I'm hungry. Wait, and not lemon ones," she added.

Gerda dipped in a small curtsy. "I'll bring them right away, Your Highness."

As she left the room, Anna continued to watch the crates of food eagerly. Kristoff leaned over.

"Is your sister still in her room?"

Anna glanced sideways at him. "Yeah. She's..."

She looked at Kristoff, but the Ice-Master said nothing. She grabbed his hand.

"I'm scared she'll shut everyone else out again," she whispered. "I've waited so long for her and I to be like this. I just... hope things aren't going to be like they were before."

"They won't be," Kristoff assured her. He squeezed her hand. "Elsa's a strong queen. She'll pull through."

Anna smiled gratefully at him. "And we'll have each other."

He returned the smile. "Always."

Gerda returned and curtsied.

"Your meal is ready, Your Highness," she indicated the royal dais.

The princess gave Kristoff a quick look. "Go ahead," he told her, "I'll be with you in a second." Anna let go of Kristoff's hand and moved earnestly towards the steaming plate of hot pancakes on the table. She sat down, picked up her silver fork, and began to eat.

She was into her fourth pancake when she looked up, and saw a head of messy red hair sprawled on the dining table across from hers. Its unnatural tinge told her who it was immediately.

_Arthur?_

Anna stared at the foreigner keenly. He was sleeping. She beckoned to Gerda, who came over speedily.

"What do you need, Your Highness?" The servant asked politely.

Anna pointed at Arthur. "Why is he sleeping there like that?" she whispered.

"I don't know," Gerda replied, turning her attention to the unconscious man, "he's been here since dawn. But Grand Pabbie requested that he be left alone."

"Won't he wake up from all the noise?" asked Anna, still watching Arthur sleep.

Gerda shrugged. "Apparently not, Your Highness."

"Thanks, Gerda. Oh, and do you think you could help me get some honey? For the pancakes?"

"Right away, Your Highness."

Anna nodded her gratitude and continued to eat her breakfast, when Kristoff plunked himself down on a chair next to her with a grin on his face.

"Hey there."

"Hi," she replied, her mouth almost full. She waved her fork towards Arthur. "Did you notice him there this morning?"

The Ice-Master's eyes followed to where she was gesturing. "Arthur? He was sleeping like that when I got here. They wanted to wake him up, but Grand Pabbie said not to."

Anna cocked her head. "Why not?"

A voice from the back answered her. "Because he didn't sleep at all last night." Anna and Kristoff jerked around in surprise to see who was talking. It was Grand Pabbie. The troll dragged a chair around the table to sit opposite them.

"You scared us," Kristoff said as he breathed a sigh of relief.

"I need to talk, to both of you."

"Well, I need to talk to _you_," Kristoff told him, "about a lot of things."

"This is far more important."

The couple exchanged a look. Anna placed her fork back on the table and folded her hands in front of her.

"Okay, so what do you want to talk to us about?" But she already had the feeling that she knew.

Pabbie's wrinkled hands of stone appeared over the tabletop. He looked directly into Anna's eyes. "We need your sister."

Kristoff sighed and sagged his shoulders in a sign of disbelief. "Grand Pabbie-" he began, but Anna held up a hand for him to stop.

"Elsa's already said no," she told Pabbie.

"You need to convince her to change her mind," the elderly troll said firmly. "You need to help her understand."

"Understand what?" asked Anna.

"That this is very, very important," said Pabbie.

"You're talking about her going to war," argued Anna, "you can't expect her to want to do this. _I _don't want her to do this."

"I understand," Pabbie told her. "Truly, I understand. But Her Majesty must know this as well. This war is not a luxury, that Arthur or I choose to have." He leaned in close. "It will decide the fate of the world."

Anna shook her head. "She's already said no."

Pabbie grabbed her hand. "Anna, listen to me. I've saved your life. Do you not trust me?"

She looked at him with anguish. "It's not that, of course I trust you. But Elsa's the queen. She knows better than me, or Kristoff. We can't make her change her decision."

"You have to," Pabbie said.

"Why?"

"Because if Queen Elsa does not join us," he told her gravely, "we will lose this war."

The both of them were taken aback. "How?" Kristoff asked.

Pabbie released Anna's hand and sat back down. He showed his squat fist to them. "Arthur explained to you that there were four people who could use magic. Sentinels. The first is him." He held up a finger. "Fire. The second is Elsa. Ice. The third is me. Earth. But the fourth... The fourth is not on our side."

"Is he against you?" asked Kristoff.

Pabbie nodded.

"But it's two against one, even if Elsa doesn't help you," said Anna.

The troll shook his head. "It doesn't work that way. To kill one of the four with magic, you need the other three. Elsa, Arthur, and I all have to be there to fight, or we will never be able to defeat him. It is a constraint in magic."

"Then don't use magic," Anna shrugged.

Pabbie chuckled. "Perhaps you have only seen your sister's powers in action. I can tell you that they are the mildest manipulations that magic has to offer."

"She froze over Arendelle," she reminded him. Pabbie raised his eyebrows.

"Anna," he said, "this man cannot be killed by anything other than magic. He is much too powerful."

"You don't have to kill him," said Kristoff.

"We do. This man is the Sentinel of Air, and he has mastered his element. He can escape from any room, any shackle, any device. The man can _become_ air itself."

Anna had never heard of something so ridiculous. "How in the world can someone do that?"

"There is an effect that comes with mastering your element," said Pabbie. "A hidden power, if you will. Earth's gift is to heal, whether from physical or magical harm."

Kristoff smiled. "So that's why you never told me how to do that."

"Fire is able to summon lightning. It is the fastest type of magic that can be used. Mastering ice will give you the power to create living creatures, as Elsa has been able to."

Anna frowned. "If she's already mastered her element, why does she need any training?"

Pabbie paused for a while. "Let us just say that she has mastered it the wrong way," he decided to tell her. Anna didn't know exactly what that meant, but she didn't argue.

"Air's final form," Pabbie said, "is the ability to dissipate. To morph into a a gust of wind or a ball of air and move about as one pleases. It is very fast, not as fast as lightning, but almost too fast for the untrained eye to see."

"So, why do you need Elsa to take him down?" Anna asked.

"The three of us must use our powers on him at the same time. I would be able to lock him in place using my own powers, but he would just break out quickly. Arthur must first disable him with lightning. But he cannot do so for long. We will need to eliminate him swiftly, or he will be able to slip out of our grasp with his powers."

Anna listened to his words until he was finished. When he was, she spoke softly. "You talk about killing him. But how could Elsa even do something like that. She would never hurt anyone willingly."

"This is much more than your sister," Pabbie told her. "This is more than me, or Arthur, or you, or Kristoff, or any single person. This is what will decide how generations of children will grow up, how hundreds of thousands of men and women will live their lives. This war is everything, and your sister has to realize that right now she is the tipping point in it."

She said nothing, and Pabbie sighed.

"Anna, do you trust me?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Then help me convince your sister. Both of you."

Anna still trying to wrap her head around everything that she was being told. This was on a scale she could not even fathom. This war was so distant, so far away. It was hard- no, nearly impossible, to believe that Elsa was in the middle of it all. But if what Pabbie said was true, and she had no reason to doubt that it was, then the Queen would have no choice. Elsa _had_ to help them.

"Fine," she said. "I'll do it." She turned to Kristoff.

The Ice-Deliverer crossed his arms. "I'm not sure how much help I can be," he told her, "but I'll do it too."

Pabbie smiled at the two of them and let out a deep breath, as though a burden had been lifted off of him. "Thank you."

"I don't know if it'll be easy," she said nervously.

Pabbie nodded. "I understand."

Anna took up her fork again, but now her pancakes were cold. She put her silverware back down. She wasn't feeling hungry anyway. The task ahead of her seemed to loom eerily. How could she convince Elsa, especially now that her sister had locked herself in her room?

Something in the corner of her eye caught her attention. She turned her eyes to it.

It was Arthur. He'd twitched involuntarily in his sleep. Kristoff saw it too.

"Why's he sleeping over there?" Kristoff nodded his head towards the snoozing redhead. Pabbie turned around and saw Arthur.

"He is suffering from nightmares. Bad dreams. I've been trying to help him."

"What's causing them?" asked Anna.

"His memories," answered Pabbie, getting up from his chair. "They've been affecting him tremendously." He beckoned for them to follow him.

Kristoff rose from his seat, as did Anna. "Can't you just heal him?" the Ice-Master questioned.

The troll shook his head as he stepped off the dais. "Only time can mend this sort of case." He moved behind Arthur and placed a hand on his head. "He has seen things that I hope myself will never have to."

Anna and Kristoff approached the sleeping man as well, though a little more furtive than Pabbie had, as though they were afraid of waking him up. The troll seemed to read their minds.

"Not to worry," Pabbie said gently, "I've put him into deep sleep so that he can rest. He won't stir unless I use magic to wake him."

"He can't wake up? Is that dangerous?" asked Anna, peering over Kristoff's shoulder to see.

Pabbie shrugged. "It can be. But then again, almost anything can be dangerous, if used in the wrong way or in the wrong hands."

Kristoff's eyes widened in surprise as Arthur jerked again. The redhead murmured something softly in his sleep, but they could not hear what it was.

"What's he dreaming about?" Kristoff inquired. Pabbie closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

"His home."

The troll lifted his hand up and waved it, conjuring a misty image in the air. Kristoff realized what it was at once.

"Do you think this is right?" he asked. "To look into his dreams? Isn't that his private property?"

"Perhaps," Pabbie said, "but this is the only way I can help him."

"Are you going to change his dreams?" asked Anna, staring at the blurry motions before her.

"I cannot," admitted Pabbie. "But this will help to ease the pain within him." He waved his hand one more time, and the image became clearer, to reveal a glorious landscape.

A luminous night sky, with a pale, full moon hanging in the distance, and the call of crickets chirping serenely into the twilight.

* * *

_Valhalla - The Inner Ring - 14 Years Prior_

In the day, the rooftop would have been the color of autumn's leaves, a blend of apricot and darker red. But now without the sun's light, the tiles were only a gloomy mix of grey shades.

They were in the dark, with no lamp or torch. But that was not always a bad thing.

Gareth rested casually amid the neatly ordered slabs of painted stone, with his legs crossed in front of him, and his elbows supporting him as he leaned backward. His grizzly crimson beard swayed slightly at the soft blowing of the night's wind. Next to him, Arthur sat in a similar position as they watched the stars above.

"Can you name them?" the Sentinel asked his son. The young boy raised his finger up to the sky.

"The Great King," Arthur said first. "The one who guides the rest with his wisdom."

"And to which way does he point?"

"North. He always points North," answered his son.

"What else do you see?"

The reply came swiftly. "The Lady and Her Maidens."

"And what purpose do they serve?"

"They show us the way West, to home." Gareth watched the boy silently as he continued on. "And there's The Knight," Arthur said, "the one who guards the other stars with his his great shield, and with his sword points the way East to the Stormy Seas and beyond. Oh, and there's The Bear and her Cub, the ones that only come out in the spring and summer. The Horse runs South, where the lands are wild and free."

"And what is the last one?" questioned Gareth.

"The Sentinel, whose fire flows to the South, and ice grows North, and earth stands in the East, and air flies to the West." Arthur traced an imaginary silhouette of the constellation with his finger. "It reminds us that we are responsible for the four corners of the world, no matter where we are from."

"Very good," congratulated Gareth. "You've learned well from the sages."

"Six more months," Arthur said eagerly, "and Imperius will be fourteen. I won't have to study with him anymore."

Gareth lifted his arm and stroked his bearded chin. "You've said this many times. Do you really wish for it to happen?"

"More than anything."

The Sentinel of Fire sighed. He had tried to reconcile his son and the fellow future Sentinel, but Imperius had proved to be a stubborn and spoiled child. It did not help that Arthur hated his fellow student as well. The matter had been growing even more stressful for Gareth as of late."What do the sages think?" he asked.

"Sage Hakem says he wishes he could punish Imperius every day for the things he's done. One time he brought out a big wooden cane, but he didn't beat Imperius with it. He said it was a warning not to misbehave again. Sage Marlon is afraid of Imperius, though, and Sage Kyla is too. Imperius hit both of them with an air blast the other day, and even Sage Hakem could not get him to apologize."

Gareth listened intently to his child's words. When Arthur was finished, the Sentinel spoke up. "It seems as though you may get your hope sooner than you thought."

Arthur tilted his head in wonder. "Why?"

His father smoothed his hair in the summer breeze and smiled at his son. "Things have been getting tougher in Valhalla. So I've asked some friends of mine to come to the city and help me with my duties, to ease my situation."

Arthur's eyes lit up with happiness. "Does that mean we'll have more time together?"

Gareth reached over and ruffled his son's hair. "It means more than that. I've been thinking about training you myself from now on."

He grinned as he saw the beaming look on Arthur's face. "Really?" the boy said excitedly. "I get to train with you?"

Gareth rested back on his elbows again. "I've been the only Sentinel in Valhalla for a few years now. There used to be four of us, fighting crime and keeping order in the city. Now, being alone can be hard. When your time comes, you will be a Sentinel as well, alongside me and Imperius. But when I am too old to serve any longer, there will only be two of you."

"But that's still so far away," said Arthur. He spied something in the distance, and leaned forward to squint at it.

But Gareth had not finished speaking. "But it will come," he insisted, "and there are many things that I must teach you that the sages cannot. They will prove invaluable to you in the future." He paused. "What are you looking at?"

"Over there," answered Arthur, indicating with his forefinger. "Someone's coming this way."

Gareth could see it as well. Three torches blazed a small distance away, but they were approaching fast. He stood slowly and peered through the darkness to see better. There were three men on horseback riding steadily towards them on the path, and a smaller figure in their midst was saddled atop a pony. The Sentinel stared at them for a while longer, until he recognized who they were.

"Arthur, get down from the rooftop, and get dressed quickly."

"But I just got into my nightclothes," the boy complained.

Turning around, Gareth pulled him to his feet. "Do as I say. Look, they're almost here already."

"Who are they?" Arthur asked nervously. He was afraid that trouble was coming.

But his father's reply calmed him down. "Friends of ours. Now, go get changed. We've got to greet them. And hurry."

"Okay." Arthur leapt from the edge of the roof easily, slowing his fall with two jets of fire that sprouted from his feet. He landed comfortably on the ground, and ran into the house. Outside, he could hear the roar of his father's own flames as he thudded down himself. Arthur dusted his bare feet on the rug at the door and scurried inside.

The living room was already lit with a dim glass lamp, and now Arthur made a stroking gesture to blossom its flame brighter. Light bounced off of the walls, illuminating the entire house. He pushed open the door to his bedroom, and searched his wardrobe rapidly for something to wear. He pulled out a dark indigo vest and a white cloth shirt, and threw them on his bed. Then he proceeded to take off his nightclothes, while wrenching open his drawers for a good pair of pants and some socks.

As he slipped on his undergarments, he could hear the sound of hooves clopping by his doorstep. His father's voice rang out loud and clear.

"Welcome, good sirs!"

The smack of boots on soil told Arthur that the riders had dismounted.

"Hail, Lord Gareth!" A strong voice replied. "I am Sergeant Abel Fortsworth, at your service. And this is a member of my squadron, Marcus Holt. We were tasked with escorting the honorable Swordmaster of Highfell and his son to your residence."

"A damned fine job you've done then," Gareth said. As the adults continued to talk, Arthur finished up and hurried out of his room, clothed in expensive attire.

He stopped at the door. He had forgotten his shoes! He glanced back at his room. They must have been somewhere inside his chest of drawers. But his sandals were lying by the doorway, and Arthur slipped them on hastily. He shuffled out of the house, and saw two soldiers in armor standing in conversation with his father. Another man, clad fully in black, stood next to them quietly. Draped across his shoulder was a small blue cape that reached down to his waist, obscuring his left side. The blade of a sword protruded from his belt. Arthur had never seen him before.

But what caught his attention was a boy who was beside the strange man. He seemed the same age as Arthur, with brown hair and a pleasant-looking face. _Who is that?_ Arthur stared at him.

His father swerved his head around and caught sight of him. Gareth's eyes drifted down to Arthur's feet, but he said nothing, instead giving his son a wry smile.

It was then that the soldiers stepped to the side, and the stranger spread his arms. "Gareth!" he exclaimed and stepped forward to Arthur's father.

"Fenris, it's been far too long." Gareth accepted the man's embrace. "You're late."

"How many years since Endwall? Ten?" His voice was heavily accented, but he spoke fluently enough.

"Eleven," Gareth corrected. He drew away from the man and looked at his son. "Arthur, this is Sir Fenris Marks," he beckoned with his head. "He is the Swordmaster in Highfell, and he will be here to help me preserve the peace in Valhalla. Fenris, this is my son, Arthur Halcyon."

"An honor to meet you, sir," Arthur bowed obediently to Sir Fenris. When he looked up, he found the man studying his face carefully.

"He has Mara's eyes," he commented, "I see some of her in him." He was silent for a moment, and Arthur felt uncomfortable. But then he laughed. "Where are my manners?" He gestured to the boy close to him. "Come, this is my son, Percival Marks, training to follow in my footsteps when he becomes of age. Percy, this is Lord Gareth Halcyon, the Sentinel of Fire."

"Milord," Percival ducked his head in respect, to which Arthur's father nodded in acknowledgement. He looked back at Sir Fenris.

"Did the others arrive as well?"

"Indeed, we are all here and accounted for. They rest now at the Tall Inn."

"All of them?" Gareth seemed surprised.

"We ran into no problems," answered Fenris, "everything went according to plan."

"That's a first."

The Swordmaster chuckled again. "It's been a while since we last met. Perhaps we're wiser now."

Now it was Gareth's turn to laugh. "Somehow I doubt that. Are you still wearing that fool's joke of a shroud?"

Sir Fenris checked his shoulder. "It grows on me, though in the summer it keeps a man too warm for comfort."

"Take it off then."

"I cannot."

Arthur listened to them as they spoke, but his gaze was focused on this new boy. Percival looked back at him with just as much intensity. He seemed tired, as though he had not gotten a good night's rest in a long time. But there was friendliness in his eyes, something that Arthur did not often see in other children here.

"Here," Gareth said now, "let us talk further inside. We have guest rooms aplenty, and you and your son are more than welcome to stay here."

"I suppose we could, for the night."

"We were instructed to return Swordmaster Fenris to his lodgings," one of the soldiers said. "But if you do not require us any further, my man and I shall retire to our barracks."

Gareth looked to see Sir Fenris' reaction. The Swordmaster nodded his approval. "Certainly. Thank you for your services, Sergeant."

"It has been our pleasure, m'lord." The soldiers saluted and pivoted on their heels, striding back to their horses. They mounted swiftly, and trotted away as Gareth jabbed a thumb over to the house behind him.

"Shall we go inside?"

"Yes, yes." The two grown men made their way over to the door, with Percival in tow. As Gareth passed by Arthur he tousled the boy's hair.

"Why don't you go talk to Percival? He seems like he could use some company."

Fenris seemed to think so as well. He spoke to his own son in a foreign language that Arthur could not understand, and Percival gave an answer which sounded affirmative.

"Good boy," Sir Fenris said. He gave Arthur a warm smile, and then followed Gareth into the house, leaving the two children outside.

Arthur approached the boy. "Do you speak the Common Speech?" he asked.

"I do," Percival replied. "We learn it in Highfell." He held an accent similar to his father's, though it was not as thick.

They already knew each other's names, but Arthur offered out his palm anyway, something that he had seen Gareth do often.

"I'm Arthur," he told the foreign boy. "Arthur Halcyon."

"Percival Marks. But you can call me Percy."

They looked each other dead in the eye and shook hands firmly. Percy peered keenly at Arthur.

"My father says that you and Lord Gareth are magicians," he said. "Wizards that can make fire."

"I can make fire," Arthur confirmed with pride. He snapped his fingers, bringing to life a bold gout of _whoosh_ing flame over his hands. Percy leapt back and shouted in amazement.

"_Ygad!_" he cried in his native tongue. Afraid that he had scared off his new acquaintance, Arthur whipped his hand down, and promptly ended his short-lived fire. Percy stared at him.

"That was incredible!" he said breathlessly.

Arthur grinned shyly. "Anything you can do?"

"I have a sword," Percy replied boastfully, patting something that hung on his belt. Arthur stretched around to see. It was a short sword, with a black leather handle and rounded guard. The blade itself was longer on one end, so that the end of the sword was curved. Arthur had never seen a weapon like it.

"Where'd you get that?" he prodded, observing with interest.

"It's mine," answered Percy happily.

"My father never lets me use a blade," Arthur told him with envy.

"That is because you have to deserve the blade," Percy said, slipping it out of his swordbelt and spinning it skillfully. "I call it _Mora-Kamaha_," he held it up into the air triumphantly, "Rat-Slayer!"

"Rat-Slayer?" Arthur echoed, trying hard not to laugh. "What kind of a name is that?"

"They are the only things I've killed so far," admitted Percy. "But I am training to be a Swordmaster like my father. One day I hope to kill a crook with it." He swung his sword out with ease to provide emphasis. "Then it will be called _Mora-Raguso, _Evil-Slayer!"

Arthur cocked his head. "My father says that not all criminals are evil. That's why we don't kill some of them."

"Maybe," agreed Percy, "but then I will kill the ones that _are_ evil." He sheathed his sword back into its place. "By the way, do you have anything to eat? I'm starving."

"We've got lots," replied Arthur. "Do you like chicken pie?"

"If it's meat, I'll eat it," Percy shrugged. "Show me the food, good sir."

Arthur laughed and wiggled his head toward the house, signaling for Percy to follow him. As they went toward the door, he could not help but feel as though he had just made a friend.

* * *

_The Southern Isles - The Royal Castle of Jur Rasaa - Present Day_

His royal clothing draped around him, Prince Hans walked sullenly down the empty halls of his family's palace. Along the walls, the paintings of the old monarchs stared at him. Emperors or conquerors, warriors or lovers, holy men or murderers, it made no difference - he felt their accusing faces watching him as he strode past each one.

_Hans the Unworthy, _they seemed to whisper. _He had his chance_, _and he failed._

The long line of kings and queens stretched for the better part of a minute's walk. The Southern Isles was not a young nation.

Hans reached the last portrait, a grand picture of his own father, King Nikolaus II the Glorious. The dead king's features were young, and his frame was strong, a marked contrast to the frail man he had been on his deathbed. Hans looked upon his father with disinterest. They had never spent much time together. When the man died they had taken his will to the crypts, and read it to the thirteen brothers there. Hans had received nothing. He had expected as such.

It was not his father he had stopped for, but his mother.

She had not yet passed, but she stood in the portrait nonetheless, next to her deceased husband, solemn-faced and loyal. Hans had always been her favorite since his birth, her youngest pup, the darling of the litter. Three of his older brothers had teased him for this, until Father had them whipped for their disrespect, one time for every year of their age. They had responded in kind by ignoring Hans, as though he had never existed.

_They will grow up one day, _his mother had told him, stroking his hair when he had come to her crying, _and then things will be different. They will see the courage in you, and what a great prince you will become._

But now she looked back at him with emotionless eyes. Eyes of disapproval. _Hans the Unworthy_, he heard her voice join his ancestors'.

"Feeling sentimental, little brother?"

Hans jerked his head to see who spoke. He frowned when he saw who it was. "Otto?"

His older brother swaggered up to his side, his arms crossed. "I miss Father as well," he commented, looking the painting up and down. "It is a pity he had to leave this world so soon." He gave a sly smile and turned to Hans, "I wonder how he died."

Hans tried to ignore his brother. "He was an old man."

"Ah, yes, he was dying. But someone else was dying as well. Dying to take the throne."

Hans glanced at him with contempt. "You aren't making any sense," he said distrustfully.

Otto shrugged casually. "Father's demise was inevitable. He was bedridden, and oh so deathly ill. But Nikolai did not want to have to wait any longer." When he saw his brother's confusion, his grin widened. "And you know how our big brother is when he doesn't get what he wants. Someone had to relieve his restless spirit."

"What are trying to say?" Hans asked darkly.

"Favor," said the Trickster. He coiled his arm around Hans' neck, much to the younger prince's chagrin. "When one is so far down the line from power as we are, favor is everything. There was an opportunity, and someone had to take it."

"What the blazes are you talking about?" scowled Hans. He leaned away, trying to resist being so close to his brother.

But Otto seized him by the collar and drew himself closer. "I am talking about a rise to power," he whispered fiercely into Hans' ear. "_M__y _rise to power. It is time that you decided whether you are on my side or not."

At his words, Hans tried to yank away from his brother's grasp, but Otto was not finished. "Everyone else thinks that you have run your course, that you have nothing left to offer," he hissed. "But I think not. I think that you have potential, Hans. And you may not suspect it, but once I have gotten rid of Arendelle's Queen, I will be closer to the King's favor than any of our brothers. Even Fredrik and Balthasar."

His younger brother tore away and stepped backward. "If you are getting rid of Queen Elsa," he said vehemently, "why are you still here?"

Otto peered at him keenly, as though he could not believe Hans' words. He studied his brother's face. "You don't get it, do you?" He paused, seeing if Hans understood, but the younger man did not. Otto shook his head and laughed. "The deed has already been done," he said.

He waited for Hans to say something. But the disgraced prince made no sound. He only stared back, his jaw clenched. Otto could feel his brother's green eyes searching him, in an almost frantic fashion.

The Trickster held out his palm. "I will only offer this once." His voice was soft, but dangerously so. When he saw that his brother did not reply, he decided to say more. "I would be very careful choosing my friends from now on, dear brother. Once mother's time with us has passed... well, let's just say that there will be no one left to protect you."

Hans did not move towards the hand. "I will never serve you," he spat through gritted teeth.

The smile on Otto's face did not waver, but his tone turned frosty. "Suit yourself."

His smoothly cut black silken vest warped as he turned around abruptly, and strode away without another word. Hans listened to the arrogant crack of his boots on the hardwood floor and watched him silently as he left. But his mind was a whirlwind of frenzied chaos. The clockwork in his head spun in disarray as he repeated Otto's words to himself. _Once mother's time with us has passed... well, let's just say that there will be no one left to protect you. _

_Damn you, Otto_, he thought with loathing. He hated his brother, but in his heart he knew that his words were true.

Hans straightened his suit jacket and clenched his fists tightly. He knew what he had to do.


End file.
